


Lavender and Rosemary

by Naughty_Yorick



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Complete, Emotional Constipation, M/M, Memory Loss, Not-so unrequited love, Pining, Stolen Century, T for swears and canon typical violence, Tagged for major character death, but set in the stolen century, so he comes back, voidfish shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24716950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naughty_Yorick/pseuds/Naughty_Yorick
Summary: He had to fight the urge to scribble the words out, to cover them in ink and make them disappear. But that was the whole point, wasn't it? He was going to make it all disappear.Taako doesn’t do touchy-feely. He’s good out here. So when his feelings for Magnus grow into something more than just friendship, he takes matters into his own hands to get rid of them - for good. The voidfish feasts. Taako forgets. Magnus remembers. Set during the Stolen Century.
Relationships: Magnus Burnsides/Taako
Comments: 30
Kudos: 79





	1. FORGETTING - Cycle 84

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my gosh, I'm back. I wrote the vast majority of this fic at the end of last year, and I've made it my mission this week to finally complete it. When I started writing this, I was experimenting a little more with structure, especially using tense for different events. I've tried to make it as clear as possible (and I think it works), as I don't really have time to re-write it all. Please enjoy! <3

Taako stirred into consciousness from warm, comfortable dreams. It was early; he hadn't heard the ship's morning alarm yet, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be getting up before he did. Keeping his eyes shut, he basked in the safe, cosy feeling, wiggling beneath the blankets in search of the most comfortable spot.

The room was hot, but not stifling. He rolled over, pressing his face into the pillow. It smelt like lavender and rosemary. The mattress sagged a little beneath him, and realising he'd positioned himself right on the edge of the bed, he scooted inwards, wrapping the sheets around him as he did. 

As he shuffled, something warm pressed up against him. There was a soft noise – something like a sigh, a deep breath.

Oh. _Oh._ Right.

He wanted to stay. He wanted to let himself relax back into the pillow, to stretch out a languid arm and wrap it around his bedmate. He wanted to bask in this hot, content feeling for as long as he could, to drag it out before he needed to get up and get to work. He wanted to stay like this, somewhere between awake and asleep, without the fear of the Hunger, forever. 

Forever _did_ exist here, in an imperfect, inscrutable way. He opened his eyes, quickly adjusting to the darkness of the room, to peer at the body in the bed next to him. He edged closer, just a fraction, looking at the criss-crossing scars on his back, on the dark-coloured hair on his arms. 

This wasn't the first time he'd ended up in this bed. They'd been travelling for decades, now; after the first couple of years it just felt inevitable that the crew would start getting closer than any typical crew would. There'd been drunken nights, cold nights, nights where unknowable locals had stalked up and down outside the ship, screeching, and they'd both been too anxious to sleep alone – not that either of them had admitted it. Living in close quarters, only really knowing six others, had torn down a lot of the walls and rules that he'd been keen to stick to outside of the IPRE.

There was a kind of naivety to their sleepovers, he knew. The ironic chasteness of two bodies pressed so close together. Because nothing _happened,_ of course. Nothing ever happened. Not like that.

Taako lay there, watching his companion's back rise and fall as he slept. It was just like every other time this had happened.

Except… it wasn't, really. Not at all.

Because, yes, Taako could argue it was no different to one of the many times he'd been perched on this very bed, drunk as hell, and simply passed out where he sat. Or one of the times he'd brought a blanket with him, pressed ice-cold feet against the slumbering man in the bed and told him to shove over. But for all Taako's arguments, for all his explanations, he couldn't explain away the lingering taste of Magnus' lips on his.

And it was terrifying, and brilliant, and… wrong. He couldn't stay here.

Carefully, slowly, Taako twisted in the bed, then swung his legs out and onto the floor. Keeping his movements fluid, he rose, placing the covers down where he had been lying moments before. He took one last look back at the oblivious, still-sleeping figure, then slipped from the room, light-footed and silent, pulling the door shut behind him. The ship was still; apparently he was the only one awake. He dragged himself down the corridor towards his own quarters, his bare feet sticking to the tiled floor. He made it to his room and flung himself onto the bed, pulling the covers around him, twisting into a tight cocoon, then lay with his face pressed into the pillow.

He moaned softly to himself. He was Taako, for fuck's sake. He didn't _do_ feelings. He was good out here. But he had kissed Magnus. He remembered it, vividly – it wouldn't let itself be forgotten, playing itself out over and over again in his mind's eye. He reprimanded himself; he'd kissed a dozen guys. He was being precious – a kiss didn't have to mean anything. Hell, he'd fucked guys without having a minor existential crisis about it, and nothing had happened with Magnus beyond making out.

Which made the horrible, amazing feeling that much worse. Because however hard he denied it, it wasn't just making out. It wasn't just a kiss: it was the culmination of eighty cycles worth of unspoken feelings, of quick glances, of time-stopping touches. Everyone else had been fleeting – It was _easy_ to slip in and out of a string of quick, easy moments with other people when there was nothing tying you down. It was what he wanted, too; what he needed. Making friends was dangerous. Falling in love? That was just stupid. 

And he was the biggest idiot of all. 

He wondered how he'd gotten himself into this mess – but it was no good wondering, really, because he _knew_. He knew the long, drawn-out steps that had led to him into Magnus’ arms.

It had started that first day – the induction evening for the new recruits to the IPRE. There'd been hours of lectures and talks and orientation, of signing forms, finding dorms and meeting co-workers and employers. The IPRE had hired a huge number of staff: back then, none of them had known what awaited them at the end of their tenure. 

There was a party at the end of the day – a chance for the newbies to mingle with each other over wine and champagne and mead. The twins had found themselves with a tall, sparkling glass of champagne each and some lacklustre canapes, dancing through the room like the party was all for them.

Taako had been distracted by a plate of ultimately disappointing macaroons when Lup's pointy elbow had pressed into his ribs.

"Jeez, what?" He’d said, spinning to face her, and she'd pointed to the far corner of the room, grinning wickedly.

"Check out the beefcake."

That was the first time he'd seen him. That felt like an age ago now; it _was_ an age ago, more than eighty years. That was a lifetime for a human.

"Hatchi matchi," He'd muttered into Lup's ear, "Serve me up a slice of mama's meatloaf."

Magnus had been chatting to a little gaggle of people, head and shoulders taller than all of them, an easy smile playing about his face as he chugged from a tankard. Someone said something to make him laugh, and he'd raised an arm to scratch an itch at the base of his neck – an imagined itch, Taako would come to learn; a nervous tick Magnus did whenever he was feeling awkward. The movement had tightened the muscles in his arm, the fabric of his shirt straining. Lup had elbowed Taako again with a short, sharp laugh.

And then, because he was _Taako_ , he had sauntered over, delicately balancing the champagne flute in one hand. He had moved like oil on a skillet, Lup following with a smirk, sashaying towards the man who, somehow, would change everything – not that either of them would know it for years.

He had crossed the floor, pushed aside some nerdy guy in glasses – god, was that _denim?_ – and extended a perfectly manicured hand.

"Hey." He had said, extending the vowels, drawing out the sound, raising an eyebrow and leaning his weight on one skinny hip. "Name's Taako."

And the huge, muscled man had burst into a grin, the smile washing across his face like a _wave_ , his eyes sparkling. He had taken Taako's hand in his, pressed his other into his shoulder and then – _and then_ – pulled the elf into a massive bear hug. Lup had burst into unrestrained laughter as he felt himself being lifted off his feet.

"Hail and well met!" He had bellowed before depositing Taako back on the floor, "I'm Magnus." 

Even looking back on it all these years later, Taako could remember the heat of his arms, the way he'd picked him up like he didn't weigh a thing. The smell of his skin – he smelt of mead and musk with the smallest hint of lavender and rosemary. 

Later, when they were alone, Lup had given him that _look_ , that knowing look she did so well, and he'd pushed her away and laughed and, of course, had denied everything.

The longer they knew each other, the easier it became to ignore, in a way. They found themselves thrust together more often than not and then, a year after that first meeting, they were both in the team heading out on the Starblaster to discover planes unknown. By that stage, Magnus had entered a comfortable position in Taako's mind: friend first, absolute hottie second. 

There had been one moment – one of many, really, but this one stood out in his mind – when they were making the final preparations for their journey. Davenport was obsessing over fine details and had decided, for reasons that Taako could never really understand, that _uniforms_ were in order. He'd designed them himself, apparently, and in the name of fairness (and after a few sharp words from Lucrecia) had decided that everyone had a choice: robe or jacket. 

Lup had taken her crimson robe off somewhere to see if she could enchant the dark inner lining into something a little more exciting, and Merle, having wildly underestimated his size, had been forced to hurry back to the haberdashery in an attempt to find someone who could fix his split seams without getting Davenport involved. Lucrecia was nowhere to be found – she'd simply slid on her red robe like she'd been wearing it all her life then went back to her study to finish sorting her books. Barry had been less enthused about the prospect of what he kept calling " _clothes shopping_ ", and had taken his red robe from Davenport with a terse nod then headed off to the lab without even trying it on.

So that had left Taako and Magnus. Taako had perched himself on one of the wide sofas in the IPRE lounge, a jacket in one hand and a robe in the other, trying to find the best way to meld the two garments together. It had been taking rather longer than he had anticipated, finding himself more than a little distracted by his teammate, who was marching up and down in front of the wide mirror that Davenport had procured for them.

"Hey, Kate Moss, save some mirror space for the rest of us, will ya?" Taako called to him as Magnus paused, examining himself in the mirror critically. 

Magnus had made an exasperated grunting noise, then spun around, arms outstretched. 

"It doesn’t look right!" He huffed, frustration knotting his eyebrows together.

Taako could remember – even though this was decades ago – the way Magnus had looked that day. He'd looked him up and down with a far-too-attentive eye, noting the way the jacket clung to the muscles of his arms and emphasised his broad shoulders. It had obviously been made for him, the cut of the seams tracing his torso and the popped-up collar framing his face. 

"Looks good to me, big guy." He had replied, trying to remain casual. 

Magnus had sighed, looking back at his reflection and plucking at the grey tunic he wore beneath the jacket. And then – an idea. Taako had learned, by this stage, to read Magnus' expressions fairly well. He knew a terrible idea when he saw one light up the man's face without even needing to hear what it was.

With no warning, Magnus threw the jacket off and tossed it at Taako – he had managed to grab it, feeling the residual warmth in his hands. Then came the tunic – Taako had been so distracted by the sudden arrival of the jacket that he hadn't even noticed Magnus taking his shirt off and throwing that in his direction too until it was draped haphazardly over his head, dangling from his pointy ears, obscuring his vision. He had dropped the jacket to the floor in shock.

The shirt smelt _amazing_ , all sweat and heat and still that lavender-and-rosemary smell that he'd come to associate with Magnus. But he only dared to appreciate it for a second, couldn't let on how his heart had started thudding in his ears, the ache that started in the base of his stomach. Now – on a plane so distant and indescribably different from their home – the feeling was one he'd gotten used to – one he got whenever Magnus was around, whenever he found himself in his bed, wearing his jacket, pressed against him around a campfire.

"Hey, hot stuff," he had called out, forcing himself to sound casual, voice muffled by the tunic, "I don't recall buying tickets to the floor show this evening!" 

Magnus had guffawed as Taako had pulled the shirt away, instinctively shaking his head as it caught on the tip of his ear.

"Didn't realise I was working with Magic fuckin' Michael—" he'd started, but had found his words suddenly lost as he finally saw what Magnus' idea had been.

"Jacket with no shirt!" Magnus crowed, triumphant, his fists placed on his hips. 

Taako had nearly swallowed his tongue. Later, a long time later, Lup had asked what he and Magnus had been up to. He had responded succinctly and eloquently with "hngk." 

He'd assumed that it was just a joke – Magnus was proud of his body, proud of his muscles and his form, and was probably just showing off. But the day of the press conference came, along with a brief argument with Davenport, and then there he was – in his jacket-and-no-shirt glory, stood on the stage with the rest of them. 

Lup had been insufferable, and he'd pointedly ignored her. 

The feeling – the attraction – never really went away. When they were hopping between planes, scouting and searching, befriending new, bewildering lifeforms and escaping the being that they came to call The Hunger – it was always there, although in those first few cycles it was easier to ignore. There were more important things to think about than the way the corners of Magnus' eyes crinkled when he smiled, than how his jacket smelt when Taako huddled within it on cold nights, than how very strong and sturdy his arms were.

They settled into a routine. Danger became a game; especially to Magnus, who trusted the power of the bond engine to stitch him back together. No matter how reliable the strange, white light _was_ at bringing him back, Taako was less cavalier with his own life – dying _hurt_ , dude. But it was a reassurance; a safety net that let him lower his guard. 

Once things had settled – once their years began to follow that familiar pattern of plane, exploration, Hunger, escape – the little niggling thought in the back of his head was allowed out once more. It was brought out with two realisations – the first being that they were safe; safe enough, in any case, and so he didn't need to focus on running any more. The second being that, somehow, they'd been cursed with all the time in the world. He'd said more-or-less the same thing to Barry when he'd taught him to swim, but it had been playing on his mind since a dozen cycles in.

Unlike Barry, he wasn't prone to romanticism. At least – that was what he'd told himself. What he'd _been_ telling himself, up till now.

He pulled the blankets tighter around his shoulders and forced his eyes shut, but knew that it was no use. He lay there only for a few minutes before sighing, throwing the covers off and swinging his legs out with a groan.

He peered around his room, looking for something to change into. He was still wearing yesterday's clothes, crumpled and sweaty. He pulled them off then grabbed a pair of leggings and a flowing tunic, yanking them on before getting to work on the tangle of his hair. As he brushed it through, he made a vague attempt at meditation, trying not to slip back into panic.

By the time he was done, his hair pulled into a plait and hanging over one shoulder, he knew what he was going to do. He sat at his desk, settling with one leg tucked beneath him, the other lifted, his chin resting on his knee. He pushed a dozen or so vials and bottles out of the way, clearing the surface, then grabbed a few scraps of paper and a pen from the drawer. He sat, staring at nothing, holding the end of the pen to his lips, thinking.

And then it came to him, all at once, and he started to write.

His hands were shaking. 

  
  


Taako stared out from the deck of the Starblaster at the world below. It was a peaceful world – the only inhabitants being animals, birds, bugs – making the world largely still and silent. It was a far cry from the shadowy world of the previous cycle. He was relishing in the unusual peace as a flock of strangely coloured birds soared above the ship, their long feathers fanning out like flames.

He stuck one hand into the pocket of his robes. The papers were still there. Good. 

The rest of the ship was silent – Barry and Lup were off somewhere, no doubt being insufferably romantic. Davenport was tinkering in the hull, Magnus and Lucrecia had gone to explore, looking for building materials. Merle had been intending to use the peaceful plane as an opportunity to call on John once more – but the verdant greenery and new, intricate plant life had left him somewhat distracted. 

Taako had been hiding in his room since making his way back there that morning, thankful that Davenport had finally decided to let them have some time off. He hadn't seen anyone all day – although someone had knocked on his door just before midday. He'd pretended to be asleep.

He took a deep, calming breath, absorbing the light of the sinking sun, watching the way it played across the sky in intense pinks and blues. He had to do this now, before the others got back _._ He turned on his heel and headed towards the hull, towards the sleeping quarters.

He needed to see Fisher.

They'd been testing how Fisher's powers – if you could call them powers – worked for a while now. Magnus had discovered, quite by accident, that he could absorb and destroy information just like the voidfish from the conservatory, but he'd yet to spit any of it back out. At first, they wondered if it was the subject matter; perhaps the history books weren't designed to be thrown out for the whole plane to see. Perhaps they didn’t interest him enough. They tried to create things for him to see if that had any effect – Lucrecia painted him watercolours, Lup composed songs for him. Merle scribbled him little drabbles, snippets of short stories. Magnus attempted more miniature wooden animals; but all were absorbed and forgotten.

Fisher seemed happy enough, especially after feeding on whatever they created for him, but the final phase of his power never kicked in. Perhaps he was too young, they suggested, or perhaps the power was tied to the plane – maybe being ripped from his planar system meant that Fisher had lost that particular quirk of biology.

It was a shame, cosmically speaking, of course. But Fisher hadn't become a member of the team for whatever powers he possessed – they'd _saved_ him. _Magnus_ had saved him. And he would have saved Fisher no matter what. He'd been a member of the IPRE for years now - and unlike the rest of them, he had aged and grown with each passing year. 

The fact that Fisher wasn't able to project information back out was why Taako had found himself sneaking into Magnus' quarters while the rest of the team were away. Typically, Fisher stayed in Lucrecia’s cabin - it had always been slightly bigger than the others - but taking advantage of the apparent peace she had immediately jumped at the chance for a little interior decorating. The journals she’d been writing during their journeys had quickly overwhelmed her small bookshelf and having them heaped on the floor was causing her no small amount of distress, so Fisher had been relocated while she’d made plans with Magnus to install something more sizable. Each plane had its own journal - some had two or three - as well as stacks of notes and books about magic, ship repair, planar research, the bond engine.

They'd barely been on the plane for a week before the huge tank had been pushed from her room to his. Clearly, she'd had a lot of time to think during the long, drawn out months of the previous plane. Magnus had been thrilled to have Fisher in his room, even if Lucrecia had pointedly noted that it was only for a little while, and he’d have to tidy more. 

Taako had come prepared to pick the lock, magic at the ready, but of course this was Magnus; his door was never locked.

He pushed open the door and the lights flickered on, illuminating the mess of Magnus' room. There were clothes in heaps on the bed, on the floor, on the little desk that every IPRE member had. Taako had spent hours in this room – both awake and asleep – but now it felt different, somehow, like he'd crossed an unspoken boundary. The piles of mess had been there last night, when they'd kissed, and they'd been there that morning, when he'd snuck away. But now he felt like an invader, not a guest.

He stood in front of Fisher's tank and pulled the scraps of paper from the pocket of his robe. They crinkled and scrunched in his hands, which were stained with ink. The wavering blue-white light from the tank reflected off of his skin, iridescent and shimmering. His nails dug into his palm where he gripped his confession in shaking fists. This _had_ to work.

He relaxed his hand, unrolled the papers and he read the final line again. The rest of the words had spilled onto the page in a slurry of emotions and he'd sat back and let them. He hoped that it would be easier this way – the more thorough he was, the more likely that the emotion would be wiped clean, that it would leave no lingering, nagging trace. He'd repeated the same three words over and over, sprinkled them through the prose like a spice, like a seasoning. Sometimes he wrote in first person, sometimes in third, but the message was always the same, screaming from the page, begging for release.

But the final line – that had to be certain. Had to be a fact. There could be no confusing, muddling feelings here. It had to be a statement, one designed to be easily forgotten. He'd even gone so far as using their full names, just to be sure, just in case there was some other Magnus and Taako out there who's lives he could be inadvertently ruining. He'd even debated about whose name to use first – as if that mattered, as if it affected the outcome.

_Taako Taco and Magnus Burnsides Kissed._

Seeing it written out like that in his curling, elegant handwriting was too much. It made it real. Trapped in his head, the kiss was just a memory, just a dream; but written down it was almost dangerous. He had to fight the urge to scribble it out, cover it in ink, make it disappear.

But that was the whole point, wasn't it? He was going to make it disappear. 

He weighed the two pains in his heart, each vying for attention, trying to measure which was worse. The pain of the memory that dogged his thoughts or the pain of never remembering again.

He glanced at the scribbled notes again. No – no, this pain was far worse. The pain of needing someone, the pain of being half of a whole. It was like having initials carved into your soul and carrying them around with you. He couldn't let himself be vulnerable, couldn't let himself sink down into the soft, tempting feeling.

Lup had done it. She'd managed – somehow – to quash that little voice that screamed for independence. And it had made her happy. He'd never seen her eyes light up like they did when she was with Barry. But Barry – well – it didn't matter _what_ Barry was, because however kind and good and caring he was, so was Magnus, a hundred times over. What mattered was that Barry loved Lup back; loved her ardently, loved her from the temples of his stupid taped-together glasses to the final thread of his blue jeans. He was safe.

Taako couldn't hold onto that guarantee like Lup could. And he couldn't bring himself to ask – couldn't spell those words out, could never. The pain of that rejection would be the worst pain of all.

This would be better for them both. They could go on like nothing had happened; Taako would never have to face that pain. And this way, they wouldn't even need to pretend. He wouldn't need to spend long nights staring at the stars and wondering what could have been. He'd never even know.

He was worried that it might not work. That he hadn't said enough, or that he hadn't been clear. This was another sticking point in his mind – another annoyance, more proof that this feeling was wrong, that this – this _love_ thing – just didn’t work for him. He was unsure. He was never unsure; he was always confident in his actions, in his feelings, in his thoughts. It was his way or the highway. Being unable to grasp these slippery, confusing feelings just brought him frustration. 

He'd tried to include tangible moments – stolen glances, lingering touches, the times they'd shared a bed – to try to purge it all. He needed them to forget as much as possible. He'd left in the worst memory, allowed that to linger in their minds. That was real, that was true. No matter what he had done, no matter how he felt, the previous cycle had happened. Forgetting it would rouse too much suspicion. 

He hoped, that once the rest had vanished, that that final, painful moment would be robbed of some of its intensity. For every moment he lingered on the kiss, there was another where he couldn't shake the other memory from his head. 

He'd read it and re-read it over and over, making sure it was perfect, making sure it was _right_. He didn't want to risk Fisher accidentally erasing anything important – anything that the team had learnt, anything useful, Gods forbid erasing the memory of his teammate altogether. It was just a moment – a single moment that needed to be removed, the moment and the feeling, and then he would be able to breathe again.

It was a balancing act – a knife edge between "too much" and "not enough". He'd tried to be restrained: _too much_ was how he went about most things. _Too much_ summed up his current predicament very well, in fact.

He stood, trying to ignore the shaking in his legs, and stared at the clear surface of the water. The lights overhead reflected off it, making it glimmer. 

Try as he might, his mind drifted, unbidden, back to the kiss. To the warmth of Magnus' body, to the way his heart had leapt when they first touched. He hesitated. Maybe he didn’t need to do this. He was _Taako_ , for fuck's sake, he was bold and brave and beautiful and he shouldn't be _scared_ about… about whatever it was between him and his teammate. He was –

And then, ripping through the soft memory of the kiss, came another memory – scorching, burning, slashing. The previous plane – the shadow-creatures – Magnus' face as he was cut down, the blood, as if from nowhere, the terror in his eyes which was only there for a few seconds before it was replaced with – 

With nothing.

Taako dropped the scraps of paper into the top of the tank. They floated there for a few seconds, bobbing on the surface, then one of Fisher's lustrous tentacles reached up and wrapped around them, dragging them under the water. He seemed to be examining the offering, passing it from tentacle to tentacle, rolling the papers around in the water. And then – quick as lightning – he lifted them and they vanished into his shining, galaxy-filled bell. 

The reaction was instant. Fisher's body began to flash and glow, the miniature star systems swirling and dancing around each other, lights gleaming and bursting like fireworks. Taako fell backwards in shock, slamming into the floor, as Fisher span in the tank, his tentacles twirling through the water, dancing in his own light show.

And then, as soon as it had started, it was over. And it was gone. Fisher calmed, the lights dimmed, and the memory…

The memory of what?

Taako didn't know. He was sat on the floor in Magnus' room, and there was ink on his fingers, and Fisher was happily humming in his tank in front of him. 

The door opened.


	2. BEING - Cycle 83

_ He's running. There's a pain in his chest, a tightness that threatens to throttle him, a sharp stab with each breath. He can't stop running.  _

*

When they first enter the plane, they assume it's uninhabited – a mess of dense forests and wide expanses of desert with scorching sand, fractured by churning, dark seas. It's worlds away from some of the idyllic planes they've spent out their cycles in. The Light arrives a few days after them; they spot it hurtling down and disappearing beyond the horizon.

It should be a routine mission. The plane is vast and impassable, but empty. All they need to do is find the Light.

But it brings something with it. The day after it lands, all seven of them stand on the deck of the moored Starblaster, listening as the forest beneath them explodes into life. It  _ roars _ . Davenport looks, for the first time in a long time, truly nervous; but the mission needs to go ahead. They need to find the Light.

The first step – scouting. They need to know what's down there, what's been woken up, before they can even hope to find the Light. Taako and Lup go first, creeping through the forest with enchanted, soundless steps. It's silent – not the silence of a typical forest but real, actual silence, like it's full of ghosts.

There are shadows. All forests have shadows, but these are something more – at first, just a movement spotted on the edge of vision, then the darkness beneath a fallen tree, then… they're everywhere.

It takes two days, but they make it back to the ship miraculously unhurt. 

Barry grabs Lup as soon as she's aboard, pulling her into a hug, gripping her like he can't bear to let her go again. Davenport's face is stony, unreadable; he needs information, needs to know what they've learnt. Merle asks in his flippant, raised-eyebrows way about the plant life –  _ gross, dude! _ – but gives Taako what's clearly supposed to be an encouraging pat on the hand. He notices, too, the way Taako looks around the deck, looking for someone who isn't there, his eyebrows creasing into a neat frown.

"He's below deck," Merle says, without prompting, "said it was gettin' too intense for him." 

Taako sniggers and says, perhaps a little too harshly; "Fuckin' coward", but heads below deck anyway.

He finds Magnus holed away in his room, sat on the edge of his bed. Taako pushes the door open without even knocking, and Magnus' head snaps up immediately, a picture of fear and shock and nerves which instantly melts away as soon as he sees who it is in the doorway.

"What's up, kemosabe? You missed the fuckin' welcome wagon!" 

And before he has a chance to continue teasing him, Magnus is on his feet, striding over to Taako and scooping him up into a massive bear hug, squeezing him beneath his huge arms, lifting him off the floor. And there's a moment – imperceptible and terrifying – where the fear that Taako has been carrying with him since he and Lup entered the deadly forest finally drops away, and is replaced with something much, much scarier. 

"Nice to see you too!" He mutters into the fighter's chest, his words muffled against Magnus' body, his arms pinned to his sides. "Don't crush the goods, my man."

He feels the ground beneath his feet again as Magnus finally releases him, reeling, his nose full of the smell of lavender and rosemary and – oh, gods – so much sweat.

Taako is struck with the realisation of how close they're still standing, how his back is nearly pressed against the door, how dark and hot it is in Magnus' bedroom. He can feel his pulse begin to quicken, feel it in his wrists, in his chest, in his neck. He can still feel Magnus' arms wrapped around him, the ghost of the touch. Magnus is grinning at him, awkwardly, and there's dark bags beneath his eyes. 

"Holy moly, dude, when did you last shower?" Taako wrinkles his nose, trying to ignore the way the musky, heady smell of sweat is overwhelming him, making his skin tingle. 

Magnus laughs and raises his arm, getting at that imaginary itch at the back of his head. "Uhh…what day is today?"

Taako rolls his eyes at him, exasperated. "Shower first, my man, then you get to be all touchy-feely, kapeesh?" 

He does shower, for what it's worth, but by the time he's emerged from the shower block ("Fuckin' finally!" Merle hollers at him as he passes him in the hallway, wearing only a towel) Davenport has sat everyone down to go over the next stage of the mission. Taako eyes Magnus nervously from across the table, peers at his flushed face and damp, messy hair. He's struck with the overwhelming urge to lean across the table and run his hands through that hair, to smooth it down, to feel the wetness between his fingers. He hasn't got time to linger on those thoughts, though, because soon there are maps and plans and tactics to discuss. Davenport wants to retrieve the Light – and he wants to retrieve it as soon as possible.

Later, when the Light is in their grasp, Taako wonders if his eagerness had been a mistake.

*

_ He's running, and there's beasts at his back. Something behind him roars and the forest reverberates the sound; echoing from trees, humming as if it's coming from the very floor of the forest itself. The roar from behind is met by one from ahead, from the sides, even from above – a bubble of sound, penning him in. He takes a gasping breath and cries out in pain. _

*

The plane is dangerous – that much they know. Using instruments crafted by Barry, they know the rough direction the Light landed in, and they're off once more before nightfall on the day that Taako and Lup return. 

The air on the Starblaster is thick and tense. The ship sails over the vast, unbroken forest, skims over the treetops as the hidden creatures within scream out. They fly until long after the sun has set, forced to moor with the bond engine running, hovering several metres above the tops of the tallest trees. The Light should, they hope, be no more than a few days away.

Taako knows better than the others what lurks down beneath those trees, what's hiding in there, waiting for them. On the dawn of the next day, Davenport calls him and Lup into the helm and sits them down at his wooden desk to quiz them on what they saw. Lucrecia makes notes, scribbling down all the information they can give her. They talk for hours, allowed respite for lunch then being called back immediately afterwards for another round of questioning.

Taako knows that Davenport is only doing it because he's nervous; because he's terrified of what's out there, of the mission failing, and is gathering as much knowledge as he can before sending his crew out. But it's exhausting, rehashing the same memories over and over again, trying not to focus on how he and his twin could have died – could have died countless times. 

After dinner, Lup vanishes – along with Barry. Taako's sat at the long dining table, having scarcely eaten, and can sense Davenport hovering at the other end of the room, keen to continue their conversation. He lets the fork drop onto his plate and rubs his face with the palms of his hands, pressing them against his eyes till he sees flashes of light.

And then there's a hand on his shoulder.

He turns around.

"Hey," Says Magnus, a little half-smile on his face, "Did ya still want to… um… do that…" his eyes flash towards Davenport, who's still keeping one eye on Taako, "That thing? The thing we were talking about? Earlier?"

The pain in Taako's temples is too much for him to understand what's going on. He blinks slowly, frowning.

"You remember? You were gonna, uh…" He looks around, a little panicked, then bursts into a grin. "You were gonna spot me! Remember?"

"Uhh…"

" _ Remember _ ?"

And then Taako realises what he's doing. He glances at Davenport, who is now very deliberately looking the other way, and stands from the table.

"Oh,  _ right _ . Yeah. Yeah, that sounds… I'll go dump this in the sink, 'kay?" 

They head out onto the deck of the Starblaster, the air outside cool as night begins to set across the dark plane. Taako takes a deep breath, clearing his lungs, wincing at the pain in his head.

"Thanks, dude." He says, leaning against the railing and turning to Magnus. "I  _ cannot _ deal with any more questions."

Magnus shrugs, looking sheepish, and joins him against the railing. "It's alright." He thinks for a moment. "You, uh… you don't have to spot me, though. It was the first thing that came into my head. We can just, like, chill. If you want to, I mean! You can just go hide in your room or whatever, now that Cap'nport thinks you're busy." 

Taako laughs, the sound ringing out across the deck, mingling with the near-constant grumbling from the forest below. 

"Being alone all evening sounds shitty. What were you gonna do? Before you rescued me?"

Arm, neck, imaginary itch. The smallest hint of a blush.

"I dunno, man, I probably  _ was _ gonna be working out, or whatever. But I'm happy to just hang if you want, I think I've still got a bottle of that hot whisky stuff we picked up on that dust-bowl plane." 

Taako ponders this. Getting drunk  _ does _ sound appealing. But… a wicked little thought drifts across his mind.

"You know what, hombre, I think I  _ will _ spot you. Or  _ whatever _ ."

"Seriously?"

"Why not? I mean. I won't  _ actually _ be spotting you. I'll be being fabulous in the corner with some of that whisky you promised me. Moral support, dude. I'll shout motivational quotes at you."

"You sure? It's not like it's super fun for you."

"Shocking as you might find this, Mango, I actually  _ enjoy _ hanging around with you. And I don’t wanna mess up your routine." 

"Okay… well, if you're sure. Come on."

They head down to the hold of the ship where the on-board gym is via their rooms – Magnus grabbing the twisty bottle of golden booze and a canvas bag of workout gear, Taako grabbing a box full of tiny, clinking polish bottles. 

The gym, in the bowels of the ship, is basic, but well used – the space is dominated by weights, and there's a punching bag hanging from the ceiling, along with more general athletic equipment. The space can be cleared for sparring – whenever Magnus can convince anyone to spar with him.

Soon, Magnus is stuck into his routine while Taako lounges on a tall vaulting box, lying on his back. He splays his fingers out in front of him, inspecting them, as he paints his nails. There's a glass of whisky hovering, enchanted, just close enough that he can reach out and grab it. He chatters at Magnus, laughing, occasionally throwing in a vaguely motivational sounding phrase for good measure.

They've played out this scene before and it's become part of a comfortable routine; they chat – Taako chats more than Magnus – but more often spend a couple of hours in soft, comfortable silence.

He finishes the final coat on his final nail, throws the polish back into the box he's balanced on a nearby stack of weights and reaches out to the drink, swirling it around in the little wooden tumbler that Magnus carved for him a few cycles back. He props himself up on one elbow, watching as his friend lifts weights in the centre of the room.

"Weren't you working out, like, all morning?"

"Yep."

"And all afternoon?"

"Uh-huh."

Taako watches the bar rise and fall, watches Magnus' arms, hypnotised.

"Not that I'm not, you know, enjoying myself over here but… why, dude?"

The bar is shoved back onto the stand with a heavy  _ clunk _ , and Magnus sits up, turning to look at Taako as he does.

"It's my job." He says, standing. "Can you..?"

He gestures to the towel that's sat next to Taako on the vaulting box, who throws it to him. He twists it around in his hands while he speaks.

"I'm the fighter. I'm the  _ tank _ . I gotta be as strong as I can so I can look after you guys. I can't do magic or healing or any of that fancy shit that y'all can, I'm just good at, you know… punching shit."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, darling. You're also good at slicing shit up with your axe."

Magnus laughs, dabbing at himself with the towel.

"It's just… look, Taako, I'm not gonna make you tell me what's down there, and I don't  _ need _ you to tell me to know it's shitty. It's  _ bad _ . When you and Lup were down there I was so… we were… there's some weird shadowy bastards down there and it's my job to stop them. If I can."

"That's noble of you, my man, but you gotta take a break some time. You don't wanna overwork yourself."

He laughs. "I ain't gonna overwork myself. I'm just makin' sure I'm… ready. That I'm good enough."

Taako rolls his eyes and smirks, swinging his legs around to perch on the edge of the box. "You wanna make sure you're  _ good _ enough? Have you  _ seen _ yourself?"

Magnus smiles at that – a half-concealed grin – and he starts to wrap the towel around his wrists, busying his hands.

"It's my job to stand in the way. It's my job to get knocked down. I gotta make sure that I can take the blows and keep going." He stops wringing the towel, looks up,  _ properly _ looks at Taako. "I have to keep you safe." There's a sincerity to his voice – a certainty – that makes Taako's heart stop, for just a moment, before Magnus' eyes grow wide and he continues, rushing his words. "I mean - all of you. That's… that's what I  _ do. _ " 

Taako jumps down. "You're gonna wind up getting yourself killed, my dude. No matter how strong you are."

"Yeah, well." Magnus shrugs, maintaining eye contact.

"Yeah, well, what?"

"As long as one of you gets the ship outta here if I do, then…" He nods. "Yeah." 

Taako doesn't have an immediate response to that. The casual ease with which Magnus has just accepted his fate – accepted that he might have to die for them. More than accepted: he's  _ chosen _ to die for them, if it comes to it.

But there’s something else - something in the intensity in the way that he’d stared at him, his eyes on fire, in the way he’d said “I have to keep  _ you _ safe.” He tries not to linger on it, tries to ignore the way his stomach lurched and his blood ran cold. It was a slip of the tongue, he tells himself, it didn't  _ mean _ anything.

"Anyway." Magnus swallows and wriggles his shoulders, as if shrugging off the conversation. "Yeah. That's probably enough for this evening. I need a fuckin' shower…" He looks tired, and a little wary.

"Oh. Yeah." His head is still reeling, but he forces himself to act normal as Magnus gathers up his things. "You  _ definitely _ need a shower, my dude. You stink."

Magnus' face crinkles, somewhere between offended and amused, and he throws the sweaty towel that he's been wringing in his hands at Taako. It smacks him in the face and he splutters out a dramatic yell, before plucking it from his head and holding it out between the tips of his thumb and forefinger. He does an exaggerated shudder, then tosses it back at him. It falls, limply, to the floor between them.

Magnus laughs – the tension broken, at last – grabs the towel, and turns to go. "I think you'll find," he calls over his shoulder, "that it's a  _ musk _ . Not a  _ stink _ ."

"Yeah, right,  _ musk _ ," Taako mutters as he follows him from the room and up the tight staircase. This close behind him, he really  _ can _ smell him – it's a deep, heady smell that's near overwhelming, and it’s a relief when they finally make their way up to the deck and back to the cold night air. In the open space, Magnus has more room to stretch, raising his arms up and over his head with a groan. He always pushes himself too hard, too far. Taako is horribly aware, not for the first time, that at the end of the day he's just a dude. A  _ human _ dude. He's more fragile than he likes to admit.

Magnus twists at the waist, wincing in pain. Taako watches in silence, holding back the urge to scold Magnus for overworking himself. 

"Right. Shower. See you later, T."

"Yeah, sure. See you later."

Taako watches him as he heads back into the ship, the towel casually thrown over one shoulder. As the door shuts behind him, a breeze picks up across the deck, and from below the sound of roaring intensifies. He shudders, then quickly follows his teammate inside.

  
  


When Magnus heads back to his room, hair damp and wearing only a pair of shorts, Taako’s already in there, two cups of whisky on the desk and the wooden chair Magnus had carved on the last plane in the middle of the room.

"What…" He begins, but Taako immediately cuts him off.

"Sit!" Taako guides him to the middle of the room then presses one of the cups into his hand. The amber liquid looks like gold in the wooden cup. When he’s satisfied that Magnus isn’t going to make him leave, he heads over to the dresser and opens the little wooden chest sat atop it. The chest is the only thing Magnus ever keeps organised - it’s packed tightly with workout supplies, an ad-hoc first aid kit - bandages, wrist supports, band-aids.

"What are you—"

"Aha!" 

Taako pulls out a little bottle. The thick liquid inside shimmers in the light. He pulls out the stopper, and the room is suddenly full of the smell of lavender and rosemary. He gives it a quick sniff, grinning. Oil - Magnus’ special, home-made oil designed to ease muscle pain.

"Look," he says, advancing upon Magnus, "I know your post-workout routine just as well as you. And we  _ both _ know that you're gonna ask me, and we  _ both _ know that I'm gonna say yes, so just sit back and enjoy it, dude."

Magnus hesitates, then smiles, and sits down without another word. 

“Much better,” says Taako, stalking behind him and tipping the bottle into his hand. The oil - translucent and shiny - pools in his palm. 

He rubs his hands together and goes to place them on Magnus’ broad, bare shoulders. Then he stops. He mutters something - a small spell - and his hands begin to radiate heat. 

Pleased with himself, he presses his warm, oily hands on Magnus’ shoulders, just beneath his neck, and pushes them, palm first, into the soft flesh. Magnus, the cup of whiskey touching his lips, lets out a low groan - which he immediately stifles.

Taako is glad that he’s facing away from him so that Magnus can’t see the blush creeping up his face. He repeats the movement, and Magnus wriggles beneath his hands.

“That good, eh?” He teases, trying to hide his own nerves, trying to ignore the way Magnus’ skin is glistening in the artificial light and how warm and soft it feels beneath his fingers.

Magnus chuckles, clearly embarrassed. "It's fine."

"Just fine?" He scoffs, hands working away at the tension and knots in Magnus' back, "How disappointing. I'll have to send my certificate back."

Magnus laughs again, and they fall into companionable silence, the only sound the slick, slippery sound of the oil and the soft hush of them both sipping at their drinks. Taako moves down Magnus' right arm, and then his left, avoiding the delicate skin of his inner elbows which he knows is a ticklish spot. He's moving towards his left wrist, when there's a knock at the door.

Both of them jump, and then, realising how ludicrous being startled is, laugh nervously at each other. Before either of them can move, there's another knock, and a voice.

"Hey, Magnus?" It's Lup. She sounds worried. "Have you seen Taako anywhere?"

Magnus twists around in the chair and looks up at Taako. Taako can't help but break into a smirk, then presses a finger against his lips –  _ shh _ . He saunters towards the door, grabbing his drink from the side as he goes, rubbing the excess oil between the fingers of his free hand. He takes a final conspiratorial look at Magnus, then pulls open the door.

"Hey, I-" Lup begins, but stutters into silence as soon as she sees Taako. "Uhh…"

"Yes, darling?" He drawls, leaning against the doorframe, trying to bite back the giggles that are rising up his throat.

She raises her eyebrows, her look of concern quickly being replaced with amusement.

"I was looking for you. After dinner."

"Looking for me in Barry's room again, babe?"

She rolls her eyes. "Well you clearly aren't in  _ yours _ , so…" She trails off, and Taako notices her eyes glance over his shoulder. He turns, and sees Magnus, standing just behind him. Under the harsh, bright-white glare of the corridor lighting, he  _ glistens _ . Lup turns back to Taako and, somehow, her eyebrows raise even higher. She stares at him, waiting for an explanation which they both know he isn't going to give.

Finally, she shrugs. "…Well. I'll leave you to it, then." She takes another quick glance at Magnus, who smiles at her, then back to Taako. She gives him an expression which he recognises immediately – it means that later, or whenever she can next get him alone, there  _ will _ be questions – then turns and leaves.

Taako spins back around, letting the door shut behind him as he does.

"Well, then."

Magnus looks worried. "Uh…"

"What's up, big boy?"

"Was that… was that  _ weird _ ?"

"Lup's always weird. You gotta be more specific."

Magnus fiddles with his hands as he talks. "I mean… is  _ this _ …" he trails off, awkwardly. 

_ Shit _ . That unpleasant, unreal, pit-of-dread feeling is back. Taako powers over it. "You want me to go?"

"I…no?" Magnus appears to be choosing his words carefully, watching and waiting for a reaction. "I mean. No. Unless  _ you _ wanna go?"

Taako laughs – he's not sure if the laugh is real or fake, but his friend's unease makes his own easier to ignore. "I mean, we're almost done, so…"

He sidesteps the question with practiced ease. He can't sound too keen, can't sound standoffish. The middle ground is safest.

"Right, yeah!" This seems enough for Magnus, who sits back down. 

Taako approaches him once more. He tips a little more oil in his hands and gets to work, sliding down Magnus’ arms, then kneading the muscles of his lower back. Lup’s expression keeps coming back to him - her questioning gaze - and suddenly he’s hyper aware of the feeling of Magnus’ skin and the little movements he makes beneath his hands.

It’s easy to get distracted like this, his hands running up and down Magnus’ bare skin, pressing into it. His broad shoulders and neck are  _ begging _ to be kissed.

He tries to force that thought down, tries to bury it.

Finally, he’s done, and he reluctantly removes his hands and wipes them on one of the many discarded shirts littered around the room as Magnus pulls a fresh tunic on, covering up. He wonders if he should leave, now his work is done, but he’s no desire to return to his empty room, especially not tonight. 

“Can I top you up?” 

Magnus is offering the bottle of whisky to him. It’s like he’s read his mind - like he knows he doesn’t want to go. Taako grins and extends his empty cup. Magnus fills it, then his own.

“Thanks,” he says, “for the massage.”

“Was it…” Taako thinks, “ _ Just fine _ ?”

“Oh, shut up. It was great. You  _ know _ it was great.”

He smirks. “It  _ was _ , wasn't it?”

The ringing pain that’s been buzzing in his skull all day is gone, he realises. He hops onto the Magnus' bed, pulls his legs up to his chest, and leans against the cool wall. He can feel the hum of the Bond Drive and the engines below vibrating through the metal. It's a calming sensation, and he sits with his eyes shut for a moment, his cup held limply in one hand. He leans his head back, resting against the wall, and lets the warmth of the room and the burn of the alien whiskey calm him, coddle him.

It isn't until he's jolted into consciousness by the sensation of the bed sagging slightly beneath him that he realises he fell asleep. Magnus has joined him, lounging at the head of the bed, his pillow propped between his lower back and the wall.

"Sorry." He looks it, too. "I didn't wanna wake you up."

Taako sits up, his head swimming. "How long was I asleep for?"

Magnus shrugs. "Ten minutes? Not long. You just kinda… went." 

"Oh." He stretches out his legs, feeling the dull ache subside as they tingle back to life. He yawns.

"You okay, Taako?" 

"Just tired. I'm fine."

The look Magnus gives him shows that he clearly doesn't believe him. "You should… talk about it. If you wanna."

Taako turns to look at him. 

"Not like you did with Davenport!" He hastily adds, splaying his fingers, "Like I don't… You don't have to tell me about all that specific shit he needs. Like height and numbers and, I dunno,  _ weaknesses _ ." Taako smiles at that. "But you shouldn't pretend you're okay. I mean,  _ I'm _ not okay and I didn't even go down there!"

Taako thinks back to the forest, to the shadows that stalked him, even with his magical barriers up. He remembers the snarling, snapping jaws.

"…I slept like shit." He says, finally, unable to say anything else.

"Yeah?" 

Taako sighs and forces himself to continue. "You know, when it's quiet… you can  _ hear _ the things down there." He spots Magnus frowning. "It might be an elf thing. Better hearing, you know? I could hear them  _ all night _ ."

"Fuck, man."

"Every time I was nearly asleep, they kicked off… or I was imagining it." He shifts on the edge of the bed, tucking his feet underneath him. "And when I  _ did _ fall asleep, it was fucking nightmares all the way down. Not  _ great _ sleep quality, in the circumstances."

"Shit, T." Magnus appears to be thinking, then shuffles around the wall, around the edge of the bed, until he's sat next to him. His arm, where it's pressed against Taako's, is still slightly shiny. He's warm. The smell of lavender and rosemary seeps from him, an aromatic, comforting perfume. He relaxes for the first time all day, feeling the tension slip from his back as his shoulders sag. He lets his head drop onto Magnus' shoulder.

"Yeah: it's shit."

He can feel Magnus shuffling beneath him, his arm wriggling, but not pulling away.

"I, ah…" There's a long pause. "You can stay here, if you want. If you don't wanna be alone." 

He  _ doesn't _ want to be alone. He can't bear another night listening to the things screaming below the ship, another night replaying what he saw over and over again until he slips into short, fitful dreams. And, more so – more than the fear and the horror – he wants to stay with Magnus. He wants to be near him.

"Thanks," he says, simply. He slips his hand around Magnus' arm, and feels – with a little jolt in his stomach – Magnus lean into him, resting his head on top of his. It’s cramped, squeezed together at the foot of Magnus' bed, but there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

It's the warmth, or the whiskey, or the way the smell of lavender is dulling his senses, but it isn't long before he slips back to sleep. 

*

It takes a month and a half before they're even close to locating the Light. It's hidden deep, buried away where the forest is thickest. The trees for miles around are oddly bent and angled, gnarled trunks ripped with black-dripping tiger stripes. It's like the impact crater of a meteorite – but instead of destruction is new growth, trees taller than any they've seen before splintering from the ground in clumps. The Light, Barry assures them, is where the trees are tallest and the foliage thickest.

The ground is near-impassable, the way fraught. But all of them agree – they can't let the hunger absorb all the creatures that populate this world. 

It takes a further full month – four arduous weeks – to find the Light.

*

He's running. There's blood on his hands. He isn't sure whose blood it is. He's running despite the weakness in his legs, the dizziness in his head; the sure signs that he's running out of magic. 

He's rushing through the dense trees, skipping over rocks and fallen branches. The Starblaster is somewhere ahead; he can spot the chrome shining through gaps in the trees. Davenport and Lucrecia are still on there, he knows – they're the ones they left behind, just in case they…

Just in case.

Barry is running ahead of him, the Light gripped in his hands, guiding the way. Lup's at his side, her fists blazing, blasting the shadow-creatures that dog their heels and flank them on either side. Merle is… Merle's gone.

There's a clearing a few hundred yards ahead: that's where the Starblaster is stationed. Once they reach that, they can get back on to the ship, and they'll be safe. They just need to make the clearing. He curses himself for wasting his magic. A hidden root, buried beneath a thick carpet of rotten leaves, hooks itself around his foot and he stumbles but manages to right himself as he hears a shout from behind – 

"Taako! Keep going!"

And there's Magnus, right behind him, and  _ more  _ shadows right behind  _ him _ .

They burst through the trees and into the clearing, but that too is now full of beasts. From the deck of the ship, Lucrecia is firing off magic bolts into the writhing mass, trying to keep them back.

His legs weak and his lungs desperate for air, Taako stumbles as he enters the clearing, and takes a moment to right himself, to breathe. But one moment is too long, and then there's a pressure on his back and a pain in his shoulders and then – 

"Taako!"

Something pushes into him – there's the smell of lavender and rosemary – and then he's on the ground, lying in the dead leaves, and Magnus is standing over him with an enormous shadow beast lunging towards him.

Magnus swings his axe around and slices through the creature like it isn't even there, but before it even hits the ground there's another on him, and there's claws raking across his body, and Magnus doesn't even yell, doesn't even notice, just keeps hacking at their attackers. The bodies of the shadow-creatures melt into the ground, dissolving into the wood and leaves and debris in a kind of thick, inky sludge which sticks to their feet and threatens to pin them to the ground. Taako struggles back up to his feet, feeling the ooze sucking at him.

There's a shout from behind, and Taako whirls around to see Davenport leaning over the rails of the ship, the gangway extending out, beckoning them aboard. Before the ramp has even touched the ground, Barry's already scrambling up it, and Lucrecia stands at the top, a blue light radiating from her hands as she continues blasting the creatures snapping at Barry's heels.

"Come on, my dude, we gotta split!" Says Taako, turning back – and – 

Magnus is swamped, and there's toothy, snarling, dripping things all around him. Taako doesn't even think – doesn’t even care about how little juice he has left, just fires off a round of Magic Missiles into the swarm of dark shapes surrounding his friend.

The effort of the final spell is too much, and he can feel his legs begin to buckle beneath him, but he can't fall, can't let himself drop. The missiles fizz through the beasts, disintegrating the few closest to Magnus, and there's half a heartbeat where he doesn't move and Taako considers just letting his legs give way but then – he's bursting forward, covered in black goo, his axe still somehow in his hand, his eyes sparkling. 

"Fuck yeah!" He shouts, just as Taako calls out "Fucking nice one, dude!" 

Taako reaches out and grabs his arm, pulling him towards the Starblaster, the sludge that now coats both of them shlorping as they rush towards the ship. He laughs – he doesn't know why – it just bursts out, and he can hear Magnus guffawing behind him and the sound of Lup and Lucy's magic buzzing overhead. They reach the bottom of the ramp and there's a shout from above but he barely hears it – all he can hear is the thudding in his ears and Magnus' laughter—

But – there is no laughter. 

And then the shouting from the ship gets louder, more frantic, and Magnus' arm is pulled out of his grip and he spins to see –

To see – 

Magnus is being dragged back. There's a beast on his right leg, another on his back, a smaller one on his arm, holding it down. His axe is on the ground, sinking into the mire. Taako's immediate reaction is to launch another spell, but his magic is gone, and the effort of trying to summon without any magic makes white lights pop in front of his eyes. 

Someone's calling his name, and then there's arms around his chest and Lup is saying something to him but he can't figure out what it is. She drags him backwards and they collapse down, halfway up the ramp, weighed down in shadow-ooze. 

Magnus is still struggling against the beasts, and a lightning bolt from the ship takes one down and he brings a huge, swinging arm around only for another to leap from the trees towards him. 

Taako suddenly realises that he's yelling – he's yelling Magnus' name.

Magnus turns – the sparkle in his eyes transformed into fury – and he opens his mouth as if to respond but all that comes out is blood, trickling from the corners of his lips. And then his expression changes to fear, to pure terror, eyes wide and mouth gasping and the blood – so much blood, now. 

And then nothing. He falls. 

What are they all waiting for? Magnus is only a few yards away, they just need to reach him, just need to pull him back onto the ship and fly off to someplace not infested with shadow creatures. He struggles against Lup's grip around his chest, but she's clinging tight, and then the ramp beneath them starts to judder and retract back into the ship.

There's the sound of heavy footsteps, and then another pair of hands on him and a gruff voice in his ear, and they're dragging him onto the ship. He wriggles against them, tries to pry off their hands, but his magic is spent and the pain in his ribs is near intolerable and they won't let go.

He falls onto the deck hard, his legs now truly useless, taking deep breaths in a spreading puddle of sludge. The ship begins its ascent, the clearing below now full of beasts, and he can't even  _ see  _ Magnus anymore.

Someone's helping him up, and he can hear Davenport yelling orders, and then there's a gentle hand on his, fingers slotting together. 

"You're covered in black shit." It's Lup. Her voice is low, steady, gentle. "You need a shower, T, or you're gonna stink up the whole ship."

He lets her guide him to the showers. In a daze, he feels her slowly peeling off his jacket, and the robe beneath that, and then pulling off his shoes. She undoes his braid and hisses as the sludge makes his hair stick together. It stings as she tugs on the tangles. He swears at her – just once – before lapsing back into silence.

She gets the worse of the gunk off and, when she's satisfied that he's not going to accidentally drown himself in the shower, leaves the rest to him. He manages to undress, throwing the clothes to one side – they'll all need to be thrown away: they're completely ruined. He knows, vaguely, that ruined clothes is the sort of thing that he should be furious about. There'll be time for that later.

He stands beneath the running water, scalding at first, then growing colder the longer he stands. Thick strands of goo slough off of him, splashing onto the tiled floor and squirming down the drain. He leans with one arm pressed against the white tiles, letting the water splash over his shoulders, the other arm wrapped around his ribs. There's a deep bruise forming there; a lilac colour intensified by his blue skin and a stabbing pain when he breathes. He's broken a couple of ribs, he's sure of it. 

There's a hollow, ringing gap in his chest. It's because he's low on magic, he assures himself. It's been a long time – over twenty cycles, he thinks – since he's actually  _ run out _ . He's forgotten what it feels like. He just needs to meditate, have something to eat, have a rest, and he'll be fine. 

He squeezes his eyes shut as water cascades over his face and is confronted – horribly, suddenly – with blood and monsters and Magnus' expression as he – 

His eyes snap open with a gasp. He shuts the water off and reaches for the towel that Lup has left him, wraps himself up, and heads back to his room.

The gap in between his ribs echoes with every step.


	3. FORGOTTEN - Cycle 84

Taako sat on the floor of Magnus’ room. In the tank in front of him, Fisher was swirling and dancing and trilling out a melodic song. 

His mind ached – like he'd hit his head, like he'd been knocked out. He blinked up at Fisher, trying to place himself, trying to work out what he’d been about to do.

"Taako? What're you doing in here?"

He blinked at Magnus silhouetted in the doorframe. He looked – confused, almost. Lost, like he'd walked into the room only to forget what he was looking for. 

"I, uh…" Taako's brain felt fuzzy, like static. There was a gap somewhere in his mind. Something to do with the voidfish. "I came to feed Fisher, my dude. No biggy."

"Oh, sure!" That seemed to be enough for him, and Taako watched as his expression of confusion was replaced with his typical, jovial smile.

Magnus walked over to the tank and placed a hand on the glass. The baby voidfish hummed even louder, did a little corkscrew twirl then pressed a tentacle against the glass in response. 

"Wow, little buddy!" Giggled Magnus, as Taako got back on his feet, "What's up with you?" 

Fisher did another spin and Magnus finally turned to look at his teammate.

"What did you feed him, dude?"

Taako shrugged. "I dunno, my man. Isn't that the whole  _ deal _ with feeding stuff to him?"

"Right, right," Said Magnus, distracted by Fisher's dancing, tapping his fingers gently on the glass, "Whatever it was, it must have been super good!"

"You know it. Only the finest from  _ moi _ ." 

He made towards the door, trying to ignore the staticy feeling clinging to his thoughts. 

"Hey, uh, Taako?"

He turned back. "What's up, hombre?"

Magnus was looking at him with an expression he didn't recognise – his eyes darting everywhere but his face, his hand rubbing through his hair. He was  _ blushing _ . 

"It's just, ah man, jeez…"

"Spit it out, dude, I don't have all day." 

Magnus finally met his gaze, his face a mask of fear. "No, you know what, it's fine. No biggy, right?"

Taako raised his eyebrows, but figured whatever weirdness his teammate was experiencing right now was probably not his business. 

"Yeah. Well…alrighty, then. Ciao!" He raised a single hand in a wave and swished from the room, leaving the door open behind him. As he stalked up towards the deck, he could hear it gently click shut.

_ Fuckin' weird _ , he thought to himself.

  
*

Magnus  _ kept _ acting weird. At first, Taako just assumed he was still feeling shaken up from his grisly death in the last plane. It had been…well. It had been fucking awful, truthfully. A nasty way to go. It'd mess anyone up, even the ship's resident joker. Taako didn't want to admit it, but the vision of Magnus being dragged into the black mire by those shadowy monsters kept rearing up during his dreams, or when he was meditating. It wasn't the first time he'd seen a teammate die, but this one…clung. And if it was following  _ him _ around, invading his dreams, then god knows what it was doing to Magnus. 

Magnus seemed nervous, somehow, still gruff and loud and fun but with an edge there; he kept stumbling over words, or rambling through sentences, oddly distracted. 

The evening after Magnus had caught him in his room, Taako had been sat next to him at the dinner table and had pressed a hand against his arm after Magnus had dropped his fork for the  _ fifth _ time.

"Y'all good, big guy?" He had said, trying to be at least a  _ little _ reassuring.

Magnus' eyes had widened, suddenly, his cheeks turning crimson, and he snatched his arm away like he'd been burnt. Taako tried not to take it personally – but,  _ jeez _ , he thought,  _ I don’t have freakin' cooties. _

*

A week later, Lup cornered him on the deck.

"You're acting weird."

"And I love you too, dear sister. What, pray tell, the fuck?"

She squinted at him, her nose wrinkling in suspicion. "Don’t play all cute with me. What's up, dude? You're being all…" she fluttered her fingers at him, "aloof." 

He raised his eyebrows. "And?" He drawled, leaning against the railing of the Starblaster.

"Something seems…off. Did something happen that you’re not telling me about?"

He pursed his lips. "Well, Lulu,  _ lots _ of things happen to me. Or do I need to start telling you every time I take a dump?"

She shot sparks at him for that. He probably deserved it.

"I  _ mean _ ," she said, leaning closer and dropping her voice low, "What's up with Magnus?" 

There was that weird static again, confusing his thoughts, making his memories blur. She must have caught his dazed expression, because she grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eye.

"There's something freaky happening and I can't fucking concentrate on whatever it is. It's like there's a fucking  _ block _ there, and it's messing me up. What have you  _ done _ ?" 

He shrugged. "Nothing!"

"So why're you being all weird? And why is  _ Magnus _ being all mopey?"

More static. A gap in his memory – a question he didn’t understand. There was a flash of the previous plane, of the shadow beasts, then…

He blinked.

"Okay, one: not being weird. And two: what's Magnus being all mopey – and, by the way, I agree he totally  _ is _ being mopey – got to do with me?"

She let him go, eyeing him. Her expression of frustration had been replaced with concern. 

"I get that being, you know,  _ emotionally unavailable _ is kinda your thing, but it's  _ me _ , dude. Come on. What's up?"

She was starting to annoy him: her, and the prickling, cloudy feeling that was smothering his thoughts. "I have  _ no _ idea what you're talking about." 

She sighed and took a step back, watching him with a critical eye. "Something isn’t right. It’s like…” She stared down at the deck, frowning, trying to find the words. “…static.” She sighed. “There is something  _ really _ fucked up going on.”

He paused. Static. It was ringing around his head, too – niggling at him, teasing him. But something stopped him telling her. It felt like opening pandora’s box, like pulling down a dam. He could sense, almost, that there was something there. Something that his senses, his unconscious survival instincts, were telling him to ignore.

He shrugged at his sister, coolly. "If you say so, babe."

*

"Hey, dude?"

He turned from the stove to see Magnus standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking worried.

"What's up, my man?" 

"It's uh…It's Fisher? He's actin' all weird…"

_ That makes the both of you _ , Taako thought, but sensing Magnus' apparent distress chose not to say it out loud.

"Weird how?"

"He's just…he's not himself, you know? He's all fidgety."

Taako placed the spoon back into the saucepan. "And? What d'ya want me to do about it? Barry knows more about that stuff, or Creesh."

Magnus looked even more sheepish. "Well,  _ yeah _ , but Lucrecia's out exploring and Barry and Lup are off practicing magic someplace and…" He sighed. "Look, will you come have a look at him? Please?"

Taako rolled his eyes and with a flick of magic switched off the stove. "Fine, fine. But if this is just some normal voidfish thing, I'm gonna push you off the edge of the deck. Got it?"

"Got it." 

Magnus led him out of the kitchen and towards Lucrecia's room. Fisher had been moved back a couple of days ago – Magnus had thrown himself into her renovation project, spending hours in the little makeshift workshop either alone or with Lucrecia, building and hammering and slotting the wooden shelves together. Even Creesh had commented on how quickly they'd finished it, surprised at Magnus' sudden fixation. 

As he followed him, Taako couldn't help but notice the nervous way Magnus was wringing his hands together.  _ Big dude must be really worried about his fish _ . He pushed open the door and beckoned him in. Creesh's room was spotless, as usual.

Fisher was in his tank, humming and whirling. 

"So what's up with him?" Said Taako, heading towards the tank to get a better look.

"He's super hyped up!"

Taako pressed a hand against the glass, and immediately the voidfish trilled out a note or two then mimicked his movement, pushing himself against the tank where Taako's hand rested. His tentacles spun through the water.

"Did you just feed him?"

"No! I haven't fed him since…uh…since you did, a few weeks ago. He's not been hungry, like,  _ at all _ . It's weird." 

Taako could vaguely remember feeding the voidfish. Rather; he remembered that he  _ had _ fed the voidfish. Even thinking about it made his brain ache; the unshakable static edge still buzzing at him, still blurring his memories. As if responding to his thoughts, Fisher's bell flashed suddenly, fireworking with pinks and yellows. 

With a little gasp, he moved his hand away, like he'd been stung. The static feeling was irritating him, knocking around his skull. He walked back towards Magnus, shaking his head, trying to get the fuzz out of his head.

"Well, my dude, I dunno ab—"

Magnus gasped. " _ Fisher… _ " 

He pushed past Taako to get closer to the tank, held his face just inches from the glass, watching the fish. He was sparkling again, the lights in his bell glowing – glowing more than Taako had ever seen before. He started to step back. There was a little thought tugging at the back of his mind, telling him to run. A warning alarm that he couldn't understand. 

"Holy shit…" He murmured, following the movements of the fish, hypnotised.

Magnus pressed another hand against the glass. "Hey, buddy, what are you—"

Light exploded from the voidfish in a translucent sphere. It burst from Fisher like a shockwave, the dazzling white light sparkling and shimmering. It broke over Magnus first, who stumbled back, and then struck Taako in the chest, winding him. It expanded, shooting out, consuming the ship in an instant then carrying onwards.

Taako swayed, one hand pressed to his chest, trying to regain his breath as it all came flooding back. The memories and the hot, painful emotion poured into him, swamping him, drowning him, leaving him gasping for air. It was  _ worse _ , this way: before, the feeling had grown and been nurtured organically, it had flourished from nothing but a spark. But  _ this _ – this was like being hit by a meteorite. 

The kiss. They'd – it was –  _ the kiss _ . He'd forgotten. But now, now his mind was racing with the feeling of rough, chapped lips against his, of a coarse beard beneath his fingers, of all the hairs on his body standing on end as huge, warm hands had gripped his waist. 

It felt like his heart was going to explode, like he was going to collapse where he stood, dissolve into nothing on the floor. He flung one arm out reflexively, gripping onto the wall to steady himself, trying to breathe through his nose, trying not to give himself away.

And then, slowly,  _ glacially _ slowly, Magnus turned away from where Fisher was now peacefully floating, turned to look at him, his eyes huge and wide and sparkling.

"You…you  _ love _ me?" He choked the words out, his voice hoarse and disbelieving. 

Taako wanted to wave him off, wanted to say something cool and unflappable and nothing like the boiling, bubbling feeling in his chest. He wanted to deny it, wanted to shrug Magnus off and pretend like everything was fine, like he hadn't found himself relying so much on another person. But his own words, projected into his head by Fisher, were shouting themselves back at him. And he knew – knew from his huge, hurt, confused eyes – that Magnus was hearing them too.

He opened his mouth to respond but all that came out was a strangled, harsh gasp. 

And then Magnus was striding across the room towards him, his eyes blazing.


	4. WAITING - Cycle 83

It’s a long, quiet cycle. They have the Light, and none of them are keen to head back to the dangerous, shadowy surface, so all they can do... is wait.

Nine months.

It's around two hundred and fifty days, by Taako's estimation. 

Every night, the forest below them screams into life, the snarling and roaring of the shadow-beasts echoing in the darkness. They fly off after retrieving the Light, but all of them are exhausted and they only make it a few miles before coming to a stop, hovering above the trees. The forest is enormous – it will be another few days before they breach it, heading towards the desert beyond, hoping they can find respite elsewhere. 

After they retrieve the Light – after they leave Magnus behind – Taako locks himself in his cabin for two days. He slips between meditation and sleep, jumping awake whenever he does, his mind swimming with the image of Magnus being swarmed. 

When he emerges, crumpled and still somehow exhausted, he's surprised to see that the broken ribs and bruised skin haven't healed yet. The pain is less apparent than before, but there's still a twinge on every breath. The mottled purple bruise has a sickly yellow edge.

And the hollow feeling between his ribs remains. He can feel it rattling around inside him, impossible to ignore.

As he makes his way unsteadily to the kitchen, he can feel his fingers tingling with magic. It's back – as he was expecting – fizzing in his veins, bubbling under the surface, ready to be released. Usually, it's a euphoric feeling, a powerful feeling, but now it just makes him feel twitchy.

He finds Lup in the kitchen, hovering around the stove, with Barry sat at the long wooden table with a book open in front of him. There's a heady, sickly-sweet smell in the air that makes his stomach lurch. Lup turns when she hears him enter, and she's covered in flour, her hair exploding from her head in a fuzzy halo. 

"Hey, sleeping beauty!" She calls, and she's smiling – she looks relieved – and for a moment Taako can't work out how she's so happy.

"Hey, bud," says Barry, standing up, "How's it going? Feel any better?" 

The answer, of course, is no – but he's  _ Taako _ . "Natch, my dude."

"Recharged them magic batteries?"

"You know it."

Lup is bustling over the oven, and then the cloying smell suddenly fills the room as she pulls out a tray of sticky, golden cinnamon rolls.

"I made your favourite," she says, sliding the rolls onto a cooling rack, "Thought you'd need 'em."

He reels a little, but he forces himself to sit next to Barry at the table anyway. 

"That's great, but uh…I'm not exactly hungry."

Lup and Barry share a concerned look over his head, which he does not miss.

"You gotta eat  _ something _ , dude, you've been asleep for like, two days!"

He shrugs. "Yeah, well." 

"How about some toast? I was gonna make some anyway," says Barry, overly casual, overly concerned.

Taako has to bite his tongue so he doesn't swear at him, swallowing the catty remark, resisting the urge to tell them both he doesn't need to be coddled. Instead, he stands up, pushing the bench back, the legs screeching across the floor.

"Actually, you know what, I think I'm good."

Lup starts to make her way towards him, looking worried, but he holds up a dismissive hand and heads for the door. 

"Seriously, Lulu, I'm fine."

She doesn't follow him. 

He heads back to the sleeping quarters, and his ribs ache.

Merle is gone - lost, just like Magnus, but  _ not _ just like Magnus, not even close. That's his excuse for not healing himself. He knows that there's other healers in the team, that somewhere in the medical bay are salves and potions and ointments designed to cure virtually any wound. He knows that, in the grand scheme of things, a couple of broken ribs are  _ nothing _ , that it's a minor thing waved away with a quick spell or half a glass of sparkling potion. 

But he still doesn't heal himself.

The dull, squeezing ache is almost comforting, in a way, but he can't ignore how it makes his breathing hitch, the way it makes it painful to move at anything faster than a shuffle. He heads down the corridor, head low, keen to avoid the others, when he stops – pauses.

Right outside Magnus' room.

He quickly looks both ways before leaning on the door – it's not locked, of course it isn't – and dashes inside. The lights flicker on as he presses his back against the closed door, willing himself to breathe. Magnus' room is a mess, and Taako glances over the heaps of clothes, the unmade bed, the little piles of wood shavings. It's like Magnus isn't even gone, like he just stepped out to find more wood, to sharpen his knife, to raid the kitchen. 

He finds himself moving forwards, barely aware of what he's doing. Sat on top of the dresser, where it always is, his Mangus’ chest of workout supplies. He heads towards it, and then he's lifting open the lid and looking inside, peering at the neatly rolled bandages, the folded strips of braces and slings. Taako pulls out the familiar little bottle of mixed oils, tugging out the cork and sniffing the liquid inside. He nearly drops the bottle as the smell hits him like a punch in the gut. 

He tries to take a breath, tries to steady himself, but somehow it contorts into a sob as he opens his lips, erupting from his chest. He presses one of his hands against his mouth, as if he can force the awful, noisy emotion back down into his stomach, force it to bury itself again, but it's too late. One hand wrapped around the little glass bottle and the other against his mouth, he slumps against the dresser, his shoulders shaking.

The convulsions rack his body, and he squeezes his eyes shut, and with each one the pain in his side gets worse, jolting horribly, and soon it's too much to bear and his hand drops, and with it comes the cry he's been holding in since being thrown onto the deck of the ship nearly three days ago, covered in black sludge. 

He's not sure how long he stands there for, his mind racing, replaying Magnus' last moments to him. And then it's the moment he came back from the scouting mission, and then his grinning face and then – somehow worse than the memory of his death – the memories of their time together. Of laughing on the deck of the Starblaster, of friendly planes, tasting exotic food and playing drinking games with sparkling, spicy wine before falling asleep in a drunken heap. Sneaking into Magnus' bed during the long, cold nights on a plane devastated by ice and snowstorms and slotting himself beneath the covers, stealing his body heat. 

He sees their year on the beach, lounging in the breaking waves, teaching Magnus how to surf. Finding Fisher, bringing him back with them, the way Magnus had refused to let him go. Countless cycles full of tiny, insignificant moments: a touch on the shoulder, a hug, a glance across a table, across a bonfire. 

There's fighting, their bodies pressed back-to-back, the exhilaration of combat only matched by the exhilaration of being so close. Battling the Hunger together, or hostile locals; Lords and leaders who take offence at their sudden arrival.

He remembers, with a shudder, the first time Magnus died, desperate to save the animal inhabitants of that first plane. That had hurt – it had been a shock – but nothing like this. And then again, in Fungston. Davenport had told him, when the party had returned with the Light, how fucking long it had taken him to die. That was worse. There are more – many more – and each one plays itself out before, finally, the memories slow, then fade, then stop.

He feels exhausted, utterly spent, despite the feeling of magic under his skin. His breathing calms, his heart rate drops. The throbbing of his broken ribs beats out a staccato rhythm in his chest. 

The glass bottle is still clutched in his hand. Slowly, deliberately, he pours some of the slick liquid out, pooling it in his palm and feeling it on his fingers. He lets it sit there, warming on his skin and shining slightly in the artificial light, before hitching up the hem of the loose nightshirt he's wearing and massaging the oil into the skin above the broken ribs. His fingers press at the bruised flesh painfully, and some of the oil drips down his torso, staining the waistband of his baggy pants, but he barely notices, letting his nails dig into the tender skin. 

When he's done, he re-corks the bottle, slotting it back into place in the chest and gently shutting it. He turns and examines the room again, then walks over to the bed – sheets strewn everywhere – and sits on the soft, sagging mattress, tucking his legs beneath him. On the little bedside table, amongst the woodshavings, carving knives and slightly-stained glasses, is a little figure. Clearly Magnus had been carving something before they were called away. 

He wipes the oil still staining his hand on the bedsheet and picks up the carving, turning it over in his hands. It's just the  _ shape _ of something for now, with no detailed features – it's humanish, upright with two legs, what might become a cape, a strange, jutting point at the top – a hat? And then – suddenly – he realises what he's holding.

He stares down at the blank, slightly crooked space where a face would have been.  _ No. It's not. _ It's just a figure, just a person, just a…just  _ no one _ . He rotates the figure, exposing the base, and carved in a heavy, inexpert hand in the dark wood is the letter "T".

Right.

With the carving still in his hand, he leans back and lowers his head onto the pillow, inhaling the smell of sweat, wood, and lavender and rosemary. 

*

He wakes up with a start. He's no idea how long he's been asleep for – he doesn't even remember falling asleep. The lights in Magnus' room have shut off, but with no windows it's impossible to tell what time it is. At some point, he must have pulled the blanket around himself, because he's twisted in it, wrapped in the warm, sweet-smelling fabric. 

He sits up and the lights flicker on. With a groan, he disentangles himself from the blanket and pulls it over his head like a cowl, blocking out the painfully bright lights. He realises that he's still clutching the little figurine – the half-carved manikin – in his hand. The rough, pointy edges have dug deep grooves into his skin. He blinks, places it back on the bedside table, then swings his legs from the bed and stands.

He tugs the blanket closer around himself and yawns. And the pain he's come to expect – the pain he's gotten used to as his broken ribs grind against each other – is gone. 

*

It takes longer for the hollow feeling to go. In those first few weeks, he spends long days dragging himself around the ship, half-heartedly practicing spells or distracting himself with cooking. It's a waiting game on this plane, as it always is, but this time they're all trapped on the ship. There's no exploring, no scouting – just waiting.

After days of flying, the forest beneath them dwindles into orange, burning-hot sand. They investigate the new biome just a handful of times; like the forest, it's uninhabited save for the shadow-creatures, which worm their way out from sand dunes, from behind rocks, twisting out of the gnarled roots of dead trees. They're smaller here – scuttling and insect-like or lithe and snaking, quick to overcome an unprepared explorer. 

With two team members down and nothing for them on the surface, Davenport quickly implements a new rule: no leaving the ship under any circumstances. It's an easy rule to follow as no one wants to be down there anyway, but the decision is quickly followed by cabin fever as the surviving crew settle into their long, nine-month wait.

Everything feels off. Being trapped on the ship doesn't help, of course, making him feel like an animal in a cage, but small, daily jobs – from the intricate to the mundane – feel altered. 

Lup tries - of course she tries - and so does Barry, but there’s a barrier between Taako and them that he can't seem to navigate. He trains, he cooks, he practices spells and enchants objects and sits and talks as if nothing is different - but everything is different, and there’s too many unspoken words now. 

When he enthuses with Barry about spellcasting, or laughs at Lup’s antics, or helps Lucrecia feed Fisher, or works on the bond engine with Davenport, it feels wrong, feels hollow - false. There’s a ringing gap in his chest. The others can sense it too, he suspects.

Time passes strangely on this plane. The days seem to drag endlessly but the weeks fly by before he’s even realised they’ve gone. Two months after they retrieve the light, Lup corners him in the kitchen as he’s washing up - by hand, not magic. The repetitive, manual work feels comforting. 

She pulls him away from the sink, his hands still dripping with lukewarm suds, and with a flick of her hand shuts and locks the door using a quick, whispered spell. She makes him sit at the table, and he stares at her, stares  _ through _ her.

She asks him what’s wrong. She asks what she can do, how she can help. She tells him to talk to her. He laughs – he laughs a lot, now, partly to remind himself that he still can and partly because he knows it's expected of him. He tries to wave her away, tries to dismiss her concerns, but she refuses to listen.

He tells her he's fine. He tells her he's fine a hundred times, spells out the ways in which he's fine, a laundry list of evidence for his own wellbeing. She frowns at him across the table, her pointed, painted nails tapping on the wooden surface.

She relents, finally, and while she can't get him to confess to her she knows him well enough to know that it’s a futile pursuit – at least for now. She unlocks the door and goes to leave, but hesitates in the doorway, looking down at nothing.

"He'll be back, you know." She says. "Make sure he's got something to come back to." 

He doesn't have time to respond before she's left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the dried, sticky remains of soap bubbles on his hands. 

He doesn't know what she's talking about. He forces himself to forget the conversation.

*

It's raining the day the Hunger arrives. The storms on this plane come rolling in every few months – huge droplets battering the deck paired with winds threatening to tear the hull apart. They've been waiting for the Hunger for weeks. Truthfully; they've been waiting for the Hunger since they found the Light, waiting for their ticket away from the plane, from its impassable forests, blistering sands and horrific inhabitants.

Lup and Barry are keen for a fight – they've both been cooped up for too long, buzzing with potent magical energy with no way to expend it. They want to face the hunger down, tear it apart, do as much damage as they can before they're pulled from the plane. Taako recognises this recklessness in Lup – it reminds him of their childhood, how often she'd give in to itchy feet, dragging him along on whatever plan she'd devised. In Barry, it's new, and he can't help but wonder if his sister is a bad influence on the scientist.

Davenport won't listen to either of them when they urge him to keep the Starblaster planeside for just a day – just a few  _ hours _ – when the Hunger arrives. He wants to leave as soon as the window is open, and refuses to drag his heels. He tells them, in no uncertain terms, that anything they can reach from the deck of the ship is fair game but that's all he'll allow. Lucrecia firmly agrees with the Captain, and it's clear the plane has worn her down, exhausted her.

Lup hounds Taako for weeks, trying to get him on side, trying to recruit him in their attempts in cajoling Davenport. He understands her fury – understands more than anyone that deep, horrible urge to blow something  _ the fuck  _ up. But they're leaving the plane. They're leaving the plane and passing through the wispy, effortless edge that divides the worlds and when they do – 

And when they do – 

He can't even  _ think _ of the Hunger. But he loves his sister – it's one of the few true, sparkling feelings he remembers, one that's helped to patch the hollowness in his chest. He promises to try, and even though he suspects their attempts are futile, he stands with them while Lup points an angry finger towards the bleakness outside the ship as Davenport listens to her plea, his face impassive.

*

There's dark puddles spreading across the deck as the Hunger bursts across the sky. The ship is up and flying before the first inky columns have even struck the ground. 

Lucrecia and Davenport stay fixed to the ship's navigation controls, but Taako stands with Lup and Barry on the deck and watches as the Hunger approaches, bringing destruction with it. He can't help but feel smugly happy when the first column smashes into the trees, scattering debris as the creatures in the forest are finally, horribly silenced. Lup, who fights so hard to save everyone else, laughs mirthlessly. 

From their vantage point high above the surface, they can see trees topple and the earth crack. The shadow-creatures spill out in waves, crashing and tumbling together, screaming. Taako watches passively, fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms. There's a dull ache behind his eyes, and it isn’t until he feels the press of his twin against his arm, her hand on his shoulder, that he realises he's clenching his jaw. He sighs, trying to relax his muscles, and turns to her – and she's fierce and eager and sparkling, her eyes bright, her hair whipping around her face in the wind. 

He’s about to speak when a huge column of iridescent blackness comes thundering out of the thick, dark clouds above the ship and plunges down, only a couple of feet from the edge of the ship. 

Lup laughs again – loud and ringing and real – and there’s suddenly fire springing from her fingertips.

“Let’s fuck them up.” 

And then – all at once – it’s like the sound has come back to the universe. The feeling of surfacing after being underwater for too long, ears popping, reality rushing back in. Since the day they lost Magnus he hasn’t run out of magic once, but now it’s like it’s filling him up, like there’s lightning under his skin, like his blood is  _ fizzing _ .

Hurtling through this sudden rush of emotion, this sudden  _ power _ , comes something far stronger – something huge and hot and uncontrollable.

He’s  _ angry _ .

And now there’s sparks at  _ his _ fingertips, too. He barely registers the look of joy on Lup’s face before he’s rushing towards the railing, towards the hunger, a spell bursting from him before he’s even realised that he’s casting it. He’s not even sure what the spell  _ is _ as he watches it slam into the Hunger with a crackling fireball. He’s thrown back a foot or two, and as he stumbles, maintaining his balance, he lets out a triumphant yell. 

“Fuck  _ yeah!”  _

Lup cheers him on, her own spells dancing around them, lighting up the growing darkness in flashing, brilliant colours. Taako hurls a spell at the base of the next column, which misses, hurtling into the ground below and fizzing through a pack of escaping shadow-creatures. They dissolve under the weight of the spell, exploding into the black sludge he’s uncomfortably familiar with. 

“Yeah! Fuck  _ you! _ ” He shouts over the edge of the ship, throwing down another spell for good measure – a stronger spell, sending even more of the creatures scattering, ripping through them like they really are just shadows. 

Behind him, Lup is cackling as fire spins from her hands, wrapping around the Hunger, sizzling and hissing as it does. From the left another tendril comes twisting down, heading straight for the ship, but it’s blasted aside by Barry, his robe slipping from his shoulders, his glasses cracked, his hair wildly standing on end.

Taako feels more alive than he has in months, feels like the powerful,  _ amazing _ wizard that he knows he is. The Hunger is on their heels, but he can’t bring himself to fear it anymore. He throws spells out, burning through his unspent magic reserves; some towards their reality-bending pursuer and some at the ground, at the creatures who ruined everything. It feels  _ good _ to cause so much destruction, to watch them scatter under his magic, even if the Hunger itself is barely affected by his desperate attacks. He’s laughing, and yelling, and screaming out insults down at them along with spells, revelling in the burning feeling.

The ship beneath their feet lurches as Davenport navigates them between columns, dodging the Hunger’s relentless attacks, but he stays standing, stays strong, pushing back as much as he can. After a particularly violent swerve, he dashes towards the bow of the ship to provide ballistic support to their captain, Lup close on his heels.

Davenport’s well-practiced in their escape, now; knows the twists the ship needs to take to outpace the Hunger, can tell from the bubbling clouds where the next attack is likely to come from. But a pair of magic-users blasting stray enemies is always useful. Lup steadies herself in a more defensive position, spotting and pushing back the Hunger before it can reach the ship. Taako, still buzzing, is too keen to pull back like his twin and stands, arms outstretched and tingling with magic, at the very front of the ship, flinging out spells indiscriminately.

After a particularly virulent fireball, which leaves a column of the Hunger singled and smoking, a heavy silence seems to fall. The Hunger, for a brief moment, seems to be waiting – pulsing, dripping, beating. The creatures on the ground below are finally, blissfully still. The roaring has stopped.

Taako stands, his prickling hands resting loosely on the railing of the Starblaster, ready to fight. His chest rises and falls as he takes gasping breaths, trying to get air back into his lungs. Beads of sweat drip down his temples, plaster his hair to his face in sticky strands. His heart is pounding, blood thumping in his ears.

Then from above – a rumble, and from below – a roar. The last hurrah of a dying plane. Beneath his feet, he can feel the hum of the ship as Davenport pushes the engine, picking up speed, readying for their passage out of this plane and into the next. He glances back, and sees Lup lowering her hands.

_ No _ . He turns back to the Hunger, looks down at the plane now thousands of feet below, at the remaining creatures.  _ No! _

He’s full of raw, explosive energy. He needs to make this plane  _ pay _ . This goes beyond escape. This is  _ revenge _ .

The air seems to vibrate as a huge, glistening tendril drops from the sky almost directly in front of the ship. Taako’s clambering up onto the railing before he’s even realised what he’s doing, arms raised, the words of a complicated, deadly spell already on his lips.

He barely registers the sound of Lup calling his name, dismisses the clear panic in her voice. She doesn’t need to panic, of course. She doesn’t need to panic because he’s  _ Taako _ . In this moment, the wind playing in his hair, his robe streaming behind him, lightning crackling from his fingertips… he’s invincible. 

There’s another shout from behind – more voices have joined his sister’s – but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even turn around.

He wants to say something witty, or funny, or at least come up with a shitty pun – but he’s too overcome with anger and magic and, still haunting him, the memory of Magnus being taken down by the creatures which are now being ripped to shreds on the ground below. There are no words that can adequately sum up this feeling, no words that can describe how lost and pained and  _ furious _ he is.

The spell jolts from him like a cannon, like a force of nature, and slams into the Hunger. Lightning crackles up and down the column, paralysing it, sloughing off the edges of the blackness in huge drips. 

And then there’s another yell, and rushing footsteps, and everything happens at once. The ship heaves, the wind screams, the Hunger sends a inky arm towards him and then –

It’s like flying, just for a second. 

He doesn’t even have the luxury of hitting the ground. The Hunger gets to him first. 

*

Taako’s hot and cold all over. There’s ice in his veins – and, oh – he’s suddenly very aware of the sensation of  _ having _ veins. He floats, disconnected but content, for just a few moments, before there’s suddenly a burst of bright white light. There’s air in his chest again as his lungs unfurl like butterfly wings, and a not-unpleasant rumble in his chest as his heart kick-starts itself.

He can feel the solid material beneath his feet – he’s got feet, of course he’s got feet – and then the weight of his own body, and finally his eyes snap open.

He’s on the deck of the Starblaster, in his usual position, Lup at his side. He blinks as he re-acquaints himself with being suddenly not dead. There’s a fuzziness in his head that he’s grown used to; a side effect of being pieced back together, and he rubs his eyes.

_ Wait _ .

He feels like he’s fighting again, like he’s back there, back with the Hunger on his back. His heartrate rockets and he can feel his adrenaline spike once more and suddenly he’s afraid, more afraid than he was in the moment when he tumbled from the deck of the Starblaster less than fifteen minutes ago.

He knows where he’ll be standing. He turns around.

He’s back. He’s wearing his IPRE jacket and a shining black eye and  _ he’s back. _

Taako is running across the deck towards him in an instant, his heart pounding, then  _ throws _ himself at him.

Magnus grabs him as he jumps. He slings his arms around his neck and embraces him, holds him close, his head pressed against his shoulder. Magnus wraps his arms around him, laughing, as Taako’s feet dangle uselessly. He’s warm, and soft, and smells of lavender and rosemary, and Taako doesn’t want to let go.

“Hey, so, next time?” Lup is standing behind him, her voice sarcastic. Unwillingly, he loosens his grip around Magnus’ neck, letting himself drop back down to the deck without actually stepping away from him. He peers over his shoulder at his sister. Magnus’ arms stay wrapped around his body - and he makes no attempt to step away.

“Yeah?”

“Can you  _ not _ throw yourself off of the ship?”

“You  _ what _ ?” Magnus sounds aghast. 

“That is a deliberate misrepresentation of what happened.” He turns back to Magnus, who looks horrified. He’s so fucking close, and for an impulsive second Taako wants to lean in and kiss him, in front of everyone.

He doesn’t – he tries to ignore the sudden instinct, and instead busies his hands in the lapels of Magnus’ jacket, straightening them out, flattening them down.

“I  _ fell _ .” He says, firmly. “I did  _ not _ throw myself off.” 

“It was unnecessary.” Cuts in Lup, sharply.

“I was fighting off the Hunger!”

“You were showing off!”

He finally breaks away from Magnus and rounds on Lup.

“ _ Excuse me _ ?”

She sighs, her shoulders slumping. “You  _ scared _ me. You stupid, fucking…” Lup steps forwards and pulls Taako into a quick hug. “Don’t do it again.”

He sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes, but she knows - they both know - that he won't.

Lup gives him one final glance, then turns to Magnus.

“Good job on not being dead, Mango.”

He grins. “Thank you.”

“Excuse me!”

They all turn around to see Merle watching them, hands on hips.

“Where’s  _ my _ hug, huh? Those creepy bastards got me too!”

Lup laughs and is on him in a second, scooping him up and lifting him off the floor, twirling as she does.

“Hey, hey! Put me down!”

“You said you wanted a hug!” She giggles, then presses a sloppy kiss to the top of his head.

“Save it for Barry!” Merle wriggles out of her grip and stumbles to the floor, unsteadily. “Oh  _ Pan _ ,” he huffs, regaining his balance, “I gotta get used to not being dead again.”

Magnus laughs - he  _ guffaws _ , like he always does - and the sudden noise makes Taako jump. It’s been so long since he’s heard that sound.

And then, suddenly, he’s laughing too - and Merle is griping at him for laughing at him, and Lup is teasing them both and Barry is sprinting over too, and - 

It’s good. It’s  _ free _ . They’re alive, and they’re  _ whole _ , and…

And he’s back. It’s all he needs.

*

He lasts a week. A full seven days of resisting. That is, he thinks, rather impressive: considering.

While just as thrilled to be free from the horror of the previous plane as the rest of them, Davenport barely gives them time to rest and recover before launching into his plans for this new world. He won’t be caught unawares, and while the crew know that he only wants to make sure the plane is truly, totally  _ safe _ before they land, none of them are quite prepared for the relentless search he leads them on.

They’ve an hour - at most - of brief celebration before being put to work. There’s scanning to be done, instruments to be fine-tuned and recalibrated, spells to be focused. He’s keen to take what they learnt on the previous plane and use it, make it  _ relevant _ , somehow.

He doesn’t want it to have been all a waste. 

Taako finds himself reading spellbooks, learning and re-learning detecting spells, working with Lup to scan the ground below as they fly over. Magnus is otherwise occupied - always heavy lifting, shifting beams, reinforcing the hull. When, finally, Davenport agrees that the Starblaster is as sturdy as it’s ever going to be, Magnus is pulled aside by Lucrecia with a project of her own - and soon he’s building shelves and sawing wood and pouring over blueprints which are far too complicated for a simple piece of furniture. 

Taako’s tired - they’re  _ all _ tired, their days busier than they have been in months. He’s been crashing early each night, falling into deep sleep quickly and easily. He’s thought about knocking on Magnus’ door more than once on his way to his cabin, but the door is always shut, and he knows his friend is just as busy as he is.

Part of him is scared. Part of him worries what might happen if he does. When he was  _ gone _ , it was like there was a part of him missing, too. Now he’s back, he can breathe easy again - but the fear of falling back into that dark, empty place is so strong that it tugs at him, stops him from taking a risk to reach out.

Seven days. It’s seven days from the moment they burst through into this new plane, the moment they’re pulled apart and stitched back together, before they finally land in a wide clearing and - for the first time in  _ months _ \- feel the ground beneath their feet. The plane is safe - there’s no intelligent life, nothing sapient - just exotic birds, scurrying animals, seas and rivers full of alien fish.

That evening, they celebrate.

They’ve been picking up booze from the various inhabited planes they visit, stockpiling a well-prepared storecupboard exactly for this sort of scenario. Even Davenport joins the celebrations, his guard dropped at last. They build a bonfire a little way from the ship and Taako prepares them a meal with scavenged food - the scraps they’ve got left on the ship and the handful of wild plants, fruits and vegetables they’ve deemed safe to eat.

It’s because they’re so exhausted, Taako thinks, that the evening passes in a blur. He eats, and drinks, and lies on his back in the strangely soft grass, staring up at the stars. The sky is purple, here, almost indigo on the horizon, the furthest point from the dazzling light of the plane’s twin moons.

Even being able to lie on the grass is in itself a relief after spending a full cycle trapped on the ship with only cold metal beneath him. Next to him, inching ever closer the longer the night draws on, lies Magnus. The fire crackles noisily, Lup sings off-tune, Barry laughs. Lucrecia points out patterns in the stars above them, and Taako helps - giving her brand-new constellations crude names, nudging Magnus as he does, giggling. Every time Magnus shifts in the grass, laughing at Taako or pointing up at a cluster of stars that he  _ swears _ looks just like a dick, he can smell the oil shimmering on his arms, on his back.

Soon, the balmy air turns chilly, then cold. Even with the warmth of the fire, Taako finds his skin erupting into goosebumps. Magnus notices - of course he does - and looks at him with raised eyebrows, skin lit up by the dancing flames.

“You cold?”

Taako shrugs with a half-smile. He doesn’t even have to ask, now: Magnus is already pulling off his jacket, eyes sparkling, tossing it towards him. Taako pulls it on, burying himself inside it. It’s warm. It’s not long before the chill becomes a freeze, and the crew is forced back inside. Taako feels a little hesitant as they trapse up the gangway and back towards the ship, already missing the feeling of the wind on his face and the ground beneath his bare feet. Davenport ducks away, heading back to his cabin, and Lucrecia heads off too, her energy truly spent. 

The rest of them head into the kitchen, vaguely intending to finish off the bottle of sweetwine that Barry found and get something to snack on. The sweetwine is interesting - tasting not entirely unlike honey - and while it has little effect on the elves and humans it soon gets Merle with his head on the table, snoring unevenly. 

After another hour or so of laughing and chatting and drawing dicks on Merle’s face using magical markers, Lup stands, and stretches. She bumps into the table as she does and her nearly-emtpy glass topples, spilling across the surface. She stares down at it.

“That,” she says, finally, “is  _ tomorrow _ Lup’s problem.”

She tugs Barry up from his position half-asleep on the table and gently guides him out of the kitchen.

“ _ Oh _ ,” Lup says, pointing an unsteady finger at Taako as she leans in the doorway, “Before I forget. Don’t go near the railing again. ‘Kay?”

Taako blows a dismissive raspberry at her and she winks, then disappears back out onto the deck, dragging Barry with her.

There’s a moment of silence, then - “Did you  _ really _ throw yourself off the ship?” Magnus says, from his position leaning against the counter.

“I… honestly! Don’t listen to her!”

Magnus grins. “ _ Pshhh _ .”

“I didn’t throw myself off the ship!”

“Sure  _ sounds _ like you threw yourself off the ship.”

“I didn’t - you know, this is  _ slander!”  _

“But you  _ did _ , you know… fall. Or jump. Whichever.” 

“Look, for  _ fuck’s _ …” Taako stands up, and in a single, swift movement clambers up onto the table, the baggy sleeves of Magnus’ jacket flapping around his arms, “Okay, so - right - this is how it went, okay?”

Magnus stares up at him. “Okay.”

“Okay, so.” He points at Magnus, “ _ You’re _ the hunger, got it?”

Magnus laughs, then raises his hands in faux-claws. He growls.

“Oh, perfect,  _ wonderful _ , very accurate,” says Taako, laughing. “So you’re the hunger, and I’m  _ me _ , got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good, so, it was like-” 

Taako extends his arms, trying vaguely to remember the position he’d been in when the hunger attacked - the way he’d been standing the moment he’d been killed. It was a bit of a blur, now. He tried to remember how that moment had felt - that raw power - then shifts his weight, setting his feet - 

And places his foot right into Lup’s spilt drink.

His foot slips, his ankle twists, and then - with a horrible jolt of recognition - he’s falling.

It’s only a few feet from the tabletop to the floor, but it feels like miles, feels like falling from the railing all over again. Panic grips at him, squeezing his chest, sticking to him like the slick, black sludge of the Hunger, threatening to choke him - 

And then Magnus catches him.

Magnus’ arms are strong and sure around him, holding him tight, pressed against his chest. He’s close - so close, and his clothes smell like smoke and his breath like honey. Taako’s arms are draped around his shoulders where he caught him, and he can’t resist but to tighten his grip, to place a gentle hand on the back of his head, to card his fingers through that surprisingly soft, dark hair. He doesn’t even realise that he’s closing the gap between them, that Magnus’ lips are so close to his that he can feel his breath on his skin, that his eyes are sliding shut and he’s moving towards him like gravity and - 

From the table, Merle lets out a rumbling, guttural snore. 

They both jump. Taako, suddenly hyper aware of what he’s doing, snaps back, and Magnus lets out an awkward, nervous chuckle.

Magnus is about to say something, and there’s a glint in his eye, but Taako cuts him off before he has a chance, suddenly nervous.

“Hey! So,” he says, with forced cheerfulness, “I should, you know, hit the ol’... the proverbial…” He wriggles free of Magnus’ grip, trying not to linger too long on his confused expression, trying not to read his bewilderment as hurt. He can’t do this - he  _ shouldn’t _ do this. Even if he wants to.

Magnus lets him go, albeit slowly. Taako shuffles his feet as Magnus rubs the back of his head - scratches at the point where Taako’s fingers were mussed in his hair only seconds before.

There’s another long silence, broken only by another gurgling snore from Merle.

“Should we, ah…” Says Magnus, gesturing at their sleeping friend.

“You fall asleep at the table, you get left at the table. That’s the rules.”

“Aw, come on,” Magnus gives him a little shove, then heads towards where Merle is quietly drooling on the table. “Hey, Merle…” he says.

There’s no response. He looks at Taako, who gives him an exaggerated shrug. 

“ _ Merle!”  _

Merle snorts himself awake, blearily looking around at them. “Whas… whassgoin’ on?”

“Come on, old man,” Magnus heaved him up, laughing, “You gotta go to bed.”

For a second Merle looks like he’s going to argue with him, but upon rising from the table immediately stumbles.

“Fine,” he grumbles, “ _ Fine!” _ and, pulling himself using Magnus’ arm, makes his way out of the kitchen too.

“So, ah-” Magnus begins, but Taako is quicker; already heading towards the door. “Right.”

He jogs to catch up, and they walk the corridor towards their rooms in near-silence. Magnus is so close - his arm brushing against Taako’s - close enough to grab, to hold. But he can’t - he shouldn’t. They reach Magnus’ cabin first, and he hovers in the open doorway for a second, as if waiting for something.

“What’s up, hombre?”

“I… ah…” Magnus looks sheepish, a little uncomfortable. “It’s nothing. I’ll uh… see you in the morning.”

The door’s closed before Taako even has a chance to respond - to wish him goodnight. Trying to ignore the swirling feeling in his gut, he heads down the hall towards his own cabin. He reaches for the handle and realises, suddenly, that he’s still wearing Magnus’ jacket. He looks down at the sleeve, far too large for his arm. He rubs his fingers along the fraying hem.

_ Fuck it. _

Taako turns on his heel, leaving his door unopened, and strides back towards Magnus’ room. He’s not sure what he’s planning to do - not sure what he’s going to say - and before he can stop himself he’s pounding on the door, the sleeve rolling down his arm.

It opens almost immediately, Magnus’ slightly flushed face illuminated by the harsh, iridescent lights of the corridor. Taako doesn’t wait for him to speak - just barges in.

“I stole your jacket,” he says, simply.

Magnus swallows. “I  _ gave _ you my jacket.” 

And then they’re kissing. Taako’s not sure how it happens - how one moment he’s stood in Magnus’ room, halfway through shrugging out of his jacket, and the next their lips are locked together and his hands are playing in Magnus’ hair and there’s two, strong, wide hands gripping to his waist so hard it’s like Magnus is scared he’ll float away.

Taako wonders if perhaps he’s  _ right _ to be scared he’ll float away, but that thought doesn’t last long, chased away by the reeling, thrilling feeling of Magnus’ mouth opening beneath his, of the taste of his tongue on his lips.

They stumble backwards together, and Magnus collides with something - the chest of drawers, Taako thinks, but it doesn’t throw him off, doesn’t stop him. He moves his hands to Magnus’ jaw, feeling the coarse hair of his bead, rubbing it, revelling in it. Magnus’ kisses are soft, but sure - just like his hands, roaming Taako’s body, pulling him close.

Magnus finally breaks away, but doesn’t say anything - there’s no jokes, no comments - he just  _ looks _ at him, watches him with an expression almost like concern. Taako feels like his body is on fire, he  _ knows _ his ears have flushed, knows his hair is a mess and his face shiny with sweat, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Together, wordlessly, they move towards the bed, and Magnus sits down heavily, dragging Taako down on top of him. He finds himself straddling Magnus’ lap, looking down on him - taking him all in. He kisses him again - this time gently, cautiously, the desperation of before gone. Their lips dance together, the featherlight, their breaths mingling. 

They part once more. Magnus traps his lip beneath his teeth.

“I…” he says, softly, “We probably shouldn’t…”

Taako knows what he means without him even needing to finish the sentence - he understands, too, recognises Magnus’ hesitance in himself. He smiles, and kisses him again - a light, butterfly kiss.

“That’s okay,” he whispers, and he means it.

They collapse together onto the bed, and Taako can’t suppress the laugh that escapes his lips. They tangle around each other on the bed, on top of Magnus’ perpetually messy sheets, his jacket trapped beneath them. Taako’s arms are still steadfastly wrapped around Magnus, and as they fall onto the mattress he shuffles closer, leaning his head against his shoulder.

He’s not felt so content in an age. In over a year, in fact. Magnus seems to sense this, and, with a wriggle, extracts the blanket from where it’s fallen down the side of the bed and pulls it over them both.

“You could stay here, tonight,” he mutters, his mouth pressed to the top of Taako’s head. “If you want to.”

Taako wraps his arm around him a little tighter, breathing him in - that calming, sleepy smell of lavender and rosemary.

He does want to.


	5. REMEMBERING - Cycle 84

He was in Lucrecia’s room. He was pressed against the wall and Magnus was striding towards him and he was  _ in Lucrecia’s room _ and - 

He ran.

He reached backwards with his hands, blindly feeling for the still-open doorway, fingers sliding across the wall like it was barely there. His ears were ringing as he turned heel and slipped through the door, into the corridor, and before he knew it he was out on the deck, the humid air weighing him down.

“Taako.” Magnus was right behind him, his voice infuriatingly calm, infuriatingly steady.

He couldn’t bear to look at him, couldn't force himself to turn around. Instead he carried on walking until he was at the rail of the Starblaster, gripping it with such strength that he was amazed his fingers didn't snap around the smooth, chromed surface.

“ _ Taako _ .”

"I got Fisher to delete everything," He said, keeping his eyes to the ground, unsure what else to say. "I wrote it all down, it should have all gone…"

"No, you didn’t."

Magnus' voice was fixed and low, and Taako could feel his gaze bearing down on him.

"You didn't write it all down. You didn't write down how the first time I met you I was so fucking distracted by you that I made an  _ idiot _ out of myself. How guilty I felt when you became my  _ friend _ because every time I saw you I could only think how much I wanted to…" He took a deep breath, and Taako finally looked up at him. "You didn't write about how I’d train longer and harder 'cause I knew you were watching me, and 'cause I knew that afterwards I could ask you to massage me and you'd just fucking  _ do it _ , and how I feel guilty afterwards but not guilty enough to stop. 

"You didn’t make me forget how I wanted to spend, just, all my fucking time around you. How I knew when you were in a good mood in the morning because the kitchen would smell like cinnamon. How I made sure I was always wearing a jacket on cold days because  _ you _ never would and you'd end up stealing it. 

"You didn't write down how when I died on that fucking plane and saw you – saw you screaming at me – and I… Do you know how that felt, Taako? I wasn’t scared because I was gonna die, or thinking about how much it hurt, I was thinking about how much I'd  _ fucked up _ . I'd rushed in and thrown my life away and… left you. And you sure as shit didn't write down how when I came back and saw you again, and saw your face, I only wanted to… to rush in,  _ again _ , and hold you and…" 

He trailed off, his voice cracking and breaking. 

"Magnus, I didn't—"

"I know." He didn’t shout it – didn’t yell – but his voice was dark, and pained, and angry. "I know you didn't." 

He leant against the railing of the ship, finally breaking Taako's gaze and rubbing his hands against his eyes.

"Do you have  _ any idea _ what it's been like?" He said, finally. "Thinking that you didn't care?  _ Knowing _ that it was one-sided? And then doubting myself, doubting how I felt because I didn’t know where these feelings had even come from. And then,  _ then _ , when I tried to work it out, it was all… blank spaces and static and just  _ thinking _ about you gave me a headache. So I tried to avoid you, because being around you was unbearable, but being away from you sucked too. I just…" He shook his head, lost for words, "You fucked it, dude."

Taako didn't have a response to that. "I… yeah. I fucked it."

"Why didn't you just  _ say _ something?"

He scuffed his feet on the ground, his hands balled into fists, nails digging into his palms. "What if you'd said no? What if you'd told me to fuck off?"

"Dude, I  _ kissed _ you."

"Actually,  _ dude _ ,  _ I _ was the one who kissed  _ you _ ."

"Does it make a difference?"

He span around at that, suddenly angry. "Of course it makes a fucking difference! I thought that… I thought I was taking  _ advantage _ of you or something. That you didn't want it and was too freaked out to tell me to stop." 

"That's stupid."

"How is that stupid? Cos for  _ once  _ I actually tried to stop myself taking advantage of someone, tried to stop myself doing what I wanted because it could fuck someone else over, when usually I wouldn't give a shit?"

"It’s stupid cos you could have just  _ talked  _ to me, man. And, hey, afterwards? It's not like I was in a rush to kick you out or anything. You slept in my bed!"

Taako shrugged, trying to remain dismissive, "I  _ always _ sleep in your bed. It was… It wasn't…"

"It wasn't a big deal?" Magnus finished his sentence for him, bitterly spat it out.

"That's not what I was gonna…"

He cut him off. "You don't get it, dude. You…" He swallowed, heavily, "You need to sort your shit out."

He turned away from him. "Wait, Magnus—" Taako called out, but he didn't look back, didn't even pause, just walked away, heading back inside the ship. 

Shit.

*

He couldn't go back inside. He couldn’t just stand out there, on the deck, waiting for something to happen. Without even turning back to get his cape or his things, he cast a quick feather-fall on himself and leapt off the deck, landing softly in the thick shrubbery below.

This plane really was beautiful, but he barely noticed the vibrant flowers or the occasional squawk of the huge, friendly birds that spent as much time on the leaf-litter strewn ground as they did in the trees. He picked a direction and walked, unsure where he was going, keen to put as much distance between himself and the ship as possible. 

He was thankful, for once, for the lack of intelligent life. At first it had been a disappointment – they'd all been hoping for a welcoming plane after the terror of the previous one – but now, his feet falling heavily on the dark earth, he was happy that he wouldn’t find himself interrupted by anyone.

He'd been walking for half an hour when he heard a familiar, trilling voice just a few yards away. Lup. She was laughing – she was always laughing – harmonising with Barry's soft, deep-throated chuckle. There was a thick ridge of trees and flora obscuring them from view, but Taako darted behind the trunk of a particularly wide tree regardless, waiting for them to leave.

As they passed his hiding spot, he could hear them chatting. For a mad moment he thought about darting out, considered bursting through the undergrowth and confronting them, talking to them. But then he heard her say his name – clear and ringing – and he hesitated. Barry responded to her, something he didn't catch, and then more laughter.

They knew. Of course they knew; that was how the voidfish worked. No doubt they'd been talking about it since the information was blasted out. Talking about  _ him _ . Part of him didn't care. Let them talk. He was  _ Taako _ . He was used to being the centre of attention. He relished it – knowing people were talking about him, knowing people  _ knew _ about him. But this was different; this was a secret, this was more than just fame or exposure or gossip. This was  _ personal _ . And worse than all of that – worse than knowing his friends and colleagues were picking apart the confusing, painful emotions that he'd never intended to share with  _ anyone _ – was knowing that this wasn't just about him, anymore. 

It twisted his stomach into a tight little knot, anger mixing with shame. They would all be there, back on the ship, or out in their twos and threes, discussing what they'd heard. Picking apart what they knew about him and Magnus – and filling in the blanks for the parts they didn't know. Making assumptions, throwing out guesses. For him, at least, there was no uncertainty: Fisher had broadcasted everything, leaving nothing to doubt. He thought of his teammate – his friend – his… whatever it was Magnus had become over these past dozens of years – sitting, back on the Starblaster, knowing that everyone was talking about him.

It was his fucking fault. All of it. He could see, laid out in front of him, the string of mistakes he'd made leading him to this point – starting with trying to erase it all and ending, distantly, with a too-confident greeting at a crowded party. Magnus was hurt, and angry, and confused, and it was all his fault.

His back pressed against the bark of the tree, he slid down till he was resting on the floor. He waited until he couldn’t hear his sister's laughter any more. Until he couldn't hear their footsteps. He counted to a hundred – counted to a hundred three times – and then, finally, stood. 

There was a breeze – the air, down between the bushes and tree trunks, was oddly warm, getting cooler the higher you rose. Leaves fluttered down around him. He sighed, stretched out his aching limbs and let the breeze lead him away.

He was walking for perhaps another twenty minutes, taking turns at random, going wherever the forest led him, before breaking out of the dense line of trees onto a wide, empty beach. The sand was soft and fine; his feet sank up to his ankles when he stepped onto it. He pulled off his shoes and made his way across the dunes, the sand kicking up around him in little clouds. 

The ocean on this plane was expansive, and the shallow water where it met the land was dazzlingly blue and clear. There were silver fish darting through the shallows like tiny rockets, like shooting stars. When Taako splashed into the water, letting it lap at his feet, the fish began to nibble at his toes. He stood there for a while, watching the waves push and pull at the sand, tugging at his ankles. He knew, in the back of his mind, that he'd have to go back eventually. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the sun was already sinking and soon darkness would fall, making it even harder to pick his way back to the ship. 

As it grew darker, little patches of light began to twinkle on the surface of the water. Some kind of bioluminescent algae, he suspected. He made a mental note to tell Merle when he got back to the ship.

It was that thought – that passing understanding that he'd made a discovery that would interest their botany expert – made him realise that, really, he didn't have a choice. He needed to go back. He stepped out of the water, dried his feet in the sand, pulled his shoes back on and headed back towards the forest.

It took longer to get back. His natural stubbornness got the better of him, and he headed through the brambles and trees convinced he was going the right way. After an hour, he finally conceded, and cast a pathway spell. He centred it on the ship at first, but the response was weak, the magic guiding him fizzing in and out like a bad signal. He leant against a tree, cursing himself, cursing the stupid spell, and tried to focus in on Lup instead. The spell flickered and faltered then, with a snap, hooked onto her – the direction clear and distinct in his mind. He sighed in relief then began to follow the spell, clambering over fallen trees and edging around pools and ponds.

The thick canopy of trees obscured what little daylight was left, but his darkvision led the way as he avoided the hazards of the crowded forest. As the sun set, he could start to hear the scurrying and scuffling of nocturnal creatures somewhere nearby, but they stayed hidden from him – running behind him, sniffing under bushes, leaping from branches in the trees above. 

He was trying to find the best way to navigate around a deep, wide pool fenced in by enormous trees when the signal cut out. There was no warning; just the sudden sense of being, once again, inexorably lost.

He tried again to reach out to her, to place her, but the signal was gone – she could have gone exploring and found herself in a place he didn't know, ruining the spell, or could be doing magic of her own that was interfering with his. He rubbed his eyes, and swore into the darkness, startling something hiding in the tree above.

"Okay, fine!" He finally shouted, sending more creatures scattering, "Fucking…  _ fine _ ! Urgh…"

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and focused on Magnus.

The spell burst into life like a flame, like a firework. Taako nearly fell into the water with the shock of it, grabbing onto a tree to steady himself. He suddenly knew, down to the most minute detail, the way back to the ship. The spell had even forged him a path around the pool. It was like an unseen beacon, shining somewhere ahead, beckoning him home.

It made him feel warm - safe. He blinked back a feeling he was trying not to hold onto, and followed the path. 

*

It was completely dark by the time he returned, and he was shivering. The sky above was a deep violet, sprinkled with stars, the dual moons casting weird shadows on the metallic angles of the ship. The ramp that led up to the ship had been extended – clearly someone was expecting him to return. As he made his way up, he could see light spilling from the hull, from the kitchen. 

He hesitated. He could avoid them all, head through one of the other doors and go straight below deck, straight to his room. 

There was laughter from inside. He steeled himself, took a breath, and pushed the door open.

The kitchen was full of life. Everyone was gathered around the wooden table – everyone except Magnus. As he walked in, they turned as one to look at him, falling into silence. 

Lup was stood over by the counter top. She had a glass of something bright pink and fizzing in her hand and a cinnamon roll in her mouth. She opened her mouth, the roll bouncing to the floor.

"You're back!" 

She rushed forwards and pulled him into her arms. He stood, stiffly, his arms pinned to his sides.

"I was… we were… Fuck, T, we were super worried about you. I felt that tracking spell you sent out  _ hours _ ago but it just… flicked off. We weren't sure if you were…" She stopped and stood back, her hands on his shoulders, steadying herself. "But you're okay." She peered at him, and slowly removed her hands, her nose wrinkling. "Although you are  _ covered _ in forest." 

He looked down at his clothes. In the artificial light of the ship, he could see now what a mess he was; sand and mud clumped on his shoes, dark moss stains on his hips and shoulders where he'd squeezed past trees and foliage. His light-coloured trousers were covered in green grass stains. 

Lup smiled at him, and delicately reached up and plucked a stick from the tangle of his hair. It was coated in a sticky, cobweb-like substance, slightly iridescent in the light. Taako winced.

"Oh, ew."

"Where did you  _ go _ ?"

He shrugged. "Out."

Taako moved forwards, nudging past his sister back towards the countertop. Without speaking, he began to wash his hands in the sink, feeling the warm water and suds slipping between his fingers, calming him down. He could feel the others watching him, waiting.

It was Merle who spoke first, breaking the silence. "I don't get it."

Taako flicked the tap off, then grabbed the nearest towel and dried his hands before turning around, leaning back on the counter to look at Merle.

"That's because he's too tall for you." It was easier to make it funny – to pretend he was in on their private joke, that he'd been part of the conversations they'd all been having about him. It was easier than being embarrassed; easier than being angry.

Merle laughed along – even Lup snickered as she took her place at the table next to Barry.

"Nah, dude, that's not what I meant."

"No duh."

What I'm  _ saying _ is that this whole thing is really fuckin' stupid."

"I'm starting to remember why I don't talk to you."

"What I mean is: the  _ pair _ of you are being really fuckin' stupid." 

"Thanks for the clarification. Really helps."

Taako made to leave, already sick of the conversation, but Lup and Merle both called out to him at the same time, shouting over one another.

"Taako…"

"Look, hold on—"

He span around in the doorway, suddenly unable to contain himself. "What? D'ya wanna laugh at me some more? You wanna ask me all your stupid questions? Or just sit around awkwardly avoiding the fucking elephant in the room?"

"See, this is what I mean!"

"Merle, I  _ swear to Pan _ …"

"Sit your butt down, dude. We ain't laughing at you."

"No? Then what's with this little… private chat I've barged in on?"

"We were just talking!" Barry finally speaks, looking distressed. "We're your  _ friends _ , Taako. Come and sit down. We were worried about you."

" _ Worried _ ?" He spat it out, edged in sarcasm.

Lup swallows her mouthful of cinnamon roll. "You were gone for  _ hours _ , babe." 

He tries to force back the guilty, niggling feeling in his chest. "Yeah, well." He shrugs, leaving his excuse unfinished.

There was another heavy silence, broken by Lucrecia. She stumbled over her words, clearly a little out of her depth. "Ah... Taako, do you… would you like to… talk about it? Talking about things can… it can help." 

Taako looked up at her anxious, honest face. He could feel the hot little ball of anger dissipating. The others he could imagine gossiping, even Davenport, with his obsession with knowing all the details. But Lucrecia was different – she was more introspective. 

He sighed, and sat down at the table next to Merle.

"Somebody get me," He said, enunciating each word, "A fucking  _ drink _ ." 

It was, surprisingly, Lucrecia who got up, and within a minute there was a tall glass in front of him full of almost completely clear liquid.

"It's the last of the wine we brought back from Cycle 66," she explained as she headed back to her seat, "The one you said was..." She thinks, trying to remember, "... _ Real hot shit _ ." 

Taako laughed and picked up the glass. The feeling of guilt was back. He took a long swig, letting himself enjoy the strawberry flavoured drink.

"That stupid fish." He said, after a long pause. "I would have gotten away with it if it weren't for that voidfish."

Lup pressed a finger to her chin in a mock-thinking pose. "Hmm… No. No you wouldn’t."

"Meaning? It's not like y'all knew what was going on, is it?" He spotted the cocky half-smile spreading across his sister's face. "… is it?" 

"Well…" She drew it out, leaning back on her chair.

" _ Lup _ ."

"Hmm… I knew. Obviously." Said Lup smugly, smirking.

"Yeah me too" Chimed in Merle, also grinning.

" _ Excuse _ me?" Taako glared at them both. "For how long?"

Lup shrugged. "A little while. I mean… I knew you had the hots for him back in the IPRE days, but I didn't figure out you were,  _ you know,  _ till like… just before the conservatories? And then,  _ dude _ , after he died?  _ Yeesh _ . Not even subtle."

Merle nodded along. "I suspected it a few planes back, yeah." 

Taako groaned, letting his head drop onto the wooden table with a soft  _ thump _ . " _ I _ didn't even know till I… till we…"

" _ How _ could you not have realised?"

"I thought it was just a crush! Not all…" He waved a hand around above his head, "… not all  _ this _ ." 

"If it helps, I had no idea," said Barry, thoughtfully sipping on his drink. “Not until Lup told m—”

“ _ Barold! _ ”

“…Sorry.” 

"Me neither," said Davenport, "I didn't suspect a thing."

"Well no offence, Dav," said Lup, "You didn't realise me and Barry were a thing till someone pointed it out to you.  _ And _ you caught us making out, like, three times."

"I thought you were training!"

"Point proven. Taako and Magnus coulda been fucking in the showers every morning and you wouldn’t have figured it out."

Taako groaned again and muttered something into the table.

"What was that, dear?" Asked Lup, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Taako turned so his cheek was pressed against the surface of the table and looked up at his sister. She grinned at him toothily.

"Can you  _ not _ ?" 

"We're just teasing you, babe. Unless you really  _ were _ fucking in the showers _ ,  _ in which case: gross." 

"Obviously  _ not _ . And if we  _ were _ you'd all fucking know because of the fucking voidfish.  _ Urgh _ ."

He pushed himself up and tossed his head back, staring at the stained, pockmarked ceiling. 

"What a fucking disaster." 

There was a long, drawn out silence. Finally, Merle coughed.

"Anyway..." He began again, and Taako looked up at him, too  _ done _ with the whole situation to tell him to fuck off.

"You were saying I was stupid, if I remember correctly?"

Merle shrugged noncommittally. "Somethin' like that, yeah."

"Go on, then. I can tell you're  _ dying _ to elaborate." 

"The way I see it… Okay, right, answer me this first. What's your plan?"

"My  _ plan _ ?"

"Yeah. I mean you tried  _ running away _ first, but clearly that didn't stick cos you've come back, so what now?" 

Taako shrugged, taking another sip of his drink. "Is 'throw myself off the deck' an option?"

"Well  _ sure _ , but it's a shitty option."

"Okay, fine. How does locking myself in my cabin and not leaving till y'all forget this ever happened sound?" 

"Better than yeeting yourself off the ship," said Lup, nodding, "But lacks finesse." 

"Urgh. Okay, old guy, what's  _ your _ suggestion?"

"You gotta talk to him, dude!"

"No way, absolutely not."

"So you're just gonna pretend nothing happened?"

"I mean I was  _ trying _ to do that before you started bothering me." 

Merle sighed. "Look, kid. You're being ridiculous. The pair of you. You love him, right?"

Taako didn’t respond to that – just groaned, hiding his face with his hands.

"And as far as I can tell he loves you too, so what the  _ hell _ are you doing out here being a baby about the whole thing?"

"What am I…what am I  _ doing _ ? Merle, as you and the  _ rest of this fucking plane _ knows, I fucked up! I took the  _ best thing _ that…" He sighed, trying to rein in the emotion.

"Dude, stop it. Say what you  _ feel _ ."

"I can't."

"Stop being such a  _ wuss _ !" Merle launched something at him across the table – it was a slightly stale cinnamon roll – which bounced off his head.

“A  _ wuss _ ?”

“Yeah! You’re only out here ignoring him cause you’re scared. You ran off cause you were scared, you wanna hide cause you’re scared, and - if what I’m assumin’ is right - you tried to get Fisher to erase the fact you care about him cause, guess what,  _ you’re scared _ !” 

“Yeah, well, it’s…” Taako couldn’t keep it back anymore. “Okay,  _ fine _ ! I  _ am _ scared. Happy?”

“Why the hell would that make me happy?”

“Because you were right, and I’m a fuckin’ idiot…” He sighed, running his hands through his hair, “You’re right. I’m scared. Of letting myself feel all this shit. Because it’ll just get me hurt. Or…” He winced, staring at the table, avoiding eye contact. “Or I’ll just hurt him. I mean… that isn’t even  _ hypothetical _ , look at me. I’ve  _ already _ hurt him.”

“But you can fix it.” Lup put her hand on his and gave it a comforting squeeze. “You know that, right?”

He shook his head. “Why would he even want to listen to me?”

“Because he loves you, dude! D’you think he’s just gonna tell you to fuck off after one mistake?”

“But - Lu - this isn’t just a mistake. I fucked with his _ memories _ . He must hate me.”

“The only way to know if that’s true is if you go talk to him.” 

She was right. Frustratingly, horribly right.

“I…”

He trailed off, tapping on the empty glass with his fingernails, aware of the others watching him.

“What if he... What if he _ does _ hate me?”

“Then we’ll deal with that together. Yeah?”

He stared up at Lup, her honest face. There was a dusting of flour around her mouth, and she was smiling at him.

“Yeah.”

  
  


He walked down the hall, the sound of his footsteps echoing noisily, like an alarm, like thunder. He’d told the others that he would talk to Magnus, but now he was away from their support – from Lup's gentleness and Merle's teasing - he’d lost that sense of certainty. There was nothing stopping him from just going back to his cabin and sleeping on it, hiding away for just a few more peaceful hours.

No. No; that wasn’t him. Not today. He didn’t rush in - that wasn’t his style - but lingering like this,  _ waiting _ … it would drive him insane. And that guilt, that niggling guilt, was only growing - roaring at him, eating him away. Even if Magnus told him to fuck off, even if his feelings were thrown back in his face, at least he could apologise. 

He stopped outside Magnus’ door, wondering if Magnus could hear the thudding of his heart through the wood. He took a deep breath, raised his hand to knock - 

And the door swung open before he had the chance.

“Taako!”

“Magnus!”

They spoke simultaneously, neither expecting the other to be there. Taako’s heart was racing, trying to deafen him, making his legs shake. He realised that Magnus was dressed to leave - he was wearing his heavy boots, his jacket, a pack slung over his back.

“I... sorry, I’ll-”

“I was coming to find you.” Magnus said it breathlessly, quickly, as if he couldn't quite believe that he was standing there.

“You… what?”

Magnus hoisted the pack down, left it hanging from his hand.

“I was… I didn’t realise you were back. But it’s dark out and I thought… I didn’t…”

He trailed off, looking nervous.

“You… you were gonna go look for me? Out there?”

“Yeah.”

“But…  _ why _ ?”

Magnus gave a short, cheerless laugh, frowning. “Because it’s a weird plane that we haven’t properly explored yet and I was…” He broke eye contact with a sigh, looking at his feet, “I was worried about you.”

“Even…” Taako took a deep breath, steeling himself, “Even after I… fucked it?”

“Yeah. I mean; of course, Taako. Even then.”

_ Shit _ . It was like a punch in his chest - like the wind had been taken out of him. To Taako’s absolute horror, he realised there were tears forming in his eyes, threatening to spill over. Magnus stepped back, making room. 

“Do you wanna-”

And he couldn’t stop himself. The rational,  _ terrified _ voice that had been plaguing him since forever couldn’t stop him now. He flung himself forwards, colliding with Magnus, wrapping his arms around his neck, pressing their lips together.

Magus made a startled little noise and dropped the pack, which landed at their feet with a heavy thump, then wrapped his arms around Taako, gripping his waist, pressing him closer. Kissing him - after forgetting, and remembering again - was like a revelation, like magic. He clung to him, his nails digging into Magnus’ shoulders as Magnus leant back and lifted his feet from the ground.

Nearly losing his balance, Magnus took a couple of steps backwards, stumbling into the room, his arms still wrapped around Taako's waist. Taako hooked one of his dangling feet around the edge of the door and pushed it shut behind them as they went. He laughed against his lips, and suddenly the tears that were prickling at his eyes were spilling over - but this here, locked in Magnus’ arms - he didn’t try to hide them. 

They finally broke apart. Taako extracted a hand and wiped uselessly at his cheek, breathless.

“Magnus, I,” he swallowed, heavily, “I’m sorry. I  _ am _ . I shouldn’t have… I just couldn’t…”

“You were scared.”

“Why do people keep  _ saying _ that?”

“Because you’re  _ Taako _ , dude. You’re _ good out here. _ ” Magnus laughed, and pressed a quick kiss to the top of Taako’s nose. “It’s  _ bullshit _ , obviously.” 

“Fuck,” Taako sniffed, “Can’t believe you get to fuckin’ psychoanalyse me like this.”

“Only cos you were a total dick and erased all my memories.”

There was a hot, fresh burst of shame in Taako’s chest, his heart pounding. He buried his head in Magnus’ chest. “Fuck.”

Magnus chuckled, then gently placed him down, his feet back on the floor.

“Yeah, but,” he took a step back, then cupped Taako’s face with his hand, moving his head to properly look at him. “It’s okay. And I forgive you. Cause you love me?”

“Aw, no - do I have to say it? I mean you  _ already _ know.”

“Humour me.”

“You big, stupid, insanely hot bastard… fine. Fine! I love you! Happy now?”

Magnus grinned, then swooped forwards in another kiss - this one gentle, calm - a message. A kiss to tell him that there would be many, many more.

“I  _ am _ , yeah.” He said, smiling against his lips. “But you gotta promise me something.”

“Anything. I think I owe you.”

Magnus pressed their foreheads together, his eyes closed.

“Don’t ever forget me again.”

Taako smiled, softly. “How could I ever forget you, Magnus?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. This fic has been such a long time coming, I really hope someone other than me enjoys this idea. If you want to come chat, I'm on tumblr at [A-Kind-Of-Merry-War](https://a-kind-of-merry-war.tumblr.com/) 💖 (although I'm now less TAZ and more Witcher). I've also got more Taagnus fics on my AO3, if you're looking for more of our two special boys.


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